by David Achord
“Son of a bitch!” one of them yelled angrily. “Stewie is down. Lewis, Stevens, cover us, we’re going in.”
Kelly sat in anxious silence and listened as two additional gunshots rang out. She heard more obscenities, but the voices were muffled. Perhaps they were in the house, she thought.
“What’s going on, Sarge!” one of them yelled out.
“A damn dog bit me!” was the response. “Check the barn!”
Kelly’s stomach knotted up and she began silently praying. She heard them as they walked into the barn. Number Four began growling. More gunshots rang out and Number Four whimpered in pain. She felt hot tears running down her cheeks but she dared not move. Two more shots rang out and Number Four fell silent.
The soldiers, there were two of them, were verbally patting each other on the back while they walked around the barn. She heard the sergeant shout out.
“What’s going on in the barn?”
“All clear in here, Sarge, just a mangy dog and her puppies.”
Kelly stifled a gasp. She was frightened, very frightened. She could see daylight through gaps in the barrels and was deathly afraid of being spotted. She caught a brief glimpse of the men and saw familiar looking uniforms. They were dressed like the Marines they had met a couple of weeks ago. She held her breath as the soldiers stood within a couple of feet from her, and she listened as they made some crass remarks about killing her friends.
Eventually, they moved toward the door and stopped immediately outside when someone called them on the radio. She continued listening, and although she couldn’t hear the entire conversation, she heard enough.
“Corporal Stewart is down,” she heard the disembodied voice say. “There was someone inside the home, but we got him. A dog bit me, but there are no other hostiles at this location.”
She wondered who he was talking to and got her answer a moment later.
“Aye, sir.” The voice said. “Alright, listen up, the Colonel ordered us to rally up back at the main objective. Lewis, Stevens, load up Stewie. We’re going to carry him back with us.”
Kelly instinctively knew who the Colonel was on the other end of the radio. The question was, why were they killing everyone? The realization of what was happening was sinking in, and it was causing her to shake even more than she had been.
She remained hidden and listened. Her leg hurt like crazy, but she didn’t dare try any first aid, lest she made too much noise. Eventually, she heard the vehicles start up and drive away. Waiting ten more minutes, she carefully emerged from behind the barrels and peeked around. Number Four and her puppies were dead. Wiping away the tears, she carefully peered out between the cracks of the old barn siding. She was suddenly startled by someone croaking out her name.
“Kelly,” Terry said in a barely audible voice. He was standing a couple of feet away from the barn door, swaying unsteadily. Kelly gasped and tried to run to him, but her leg hurt too badly. She limped as fast as she could and grabbed him in a hug. He moaned in pain and nearly fell down. She looked at him and realized his chest was covered in blood.
“Oh, my God, what happened?” she asked in a whisper. Terry coughed in response. She looked around worriedly, put his arm around her and half dragged, half carried him into the barn. Terry leaned against a wall and slid down into a sitting position. His breathing was ragged and a bloody froth was coming out of his mouth.
“We were ambushed by Felix and his friends,” he painfully forced the words out. “They’re in cahoots with the Marines.” When he said the words, he doubled over and had a coughing attack. Kelly straightened him and ripped open his shirt. She saw a hole in his chest the size of her little finger and gasped again.
“You’ve been shot,” she exclaimed.
“Yeah,” Terry replied. It was obvious he was in a lot of pain but he managed a chuckle. “They missed my heart though. Otherwise, I’d already be dead.”
Kelly looked around frantically and found a box of scrap rags sitting on the work bench. She grabbed a bunch of them, separated the cleanest looking rags from the rest and started working on Terry. He grabbed her hand and made eye contact.
“It won’t be long, sweetheart, I’ve lost too much blood already.”
“We’ve got to do something,” Kelly said frantically. Terry shook his head.
“Too late for me,” he said in short breaths, “save yourself.” He clenched her hand tightly. “They’re dead. All of them, I think. The Colonel, I saw him. You’ve got to get away.”
“Where should I go, the school?” Terry shook his head.
“Don’t trust them.” His breathing was worse now and it seemed like it was a heavy effort for him. He coughed again, which sent shudders of pain through him. “If the Colonel found our house, he knows about the school. Stay away from them.”
“What do I do?” Kelly asked plaintively.
“Hide,” Terry said forcefully. “Hide until dark and then get to the semi. It’s got supplies in it and is ready to go.”
“Go where?” she asked.
“Fort Campbell,” Terry replied between breaths. “There’re good people there. Or, go anywhere, but get the hell out of here.”
“Terry, where’s Zach?” she asked. Terry’s eyes were half closed and his breathing was now in halfhearted, raspy gasps.
“Don’t know.”
Kelly wanted to ask more questions, but she felt Terry’s hand go limp and realized he had died.
Kelly was overwhelmed with emotion and it was everything she could do to stop herself from wailing with grief. After a few minutes, she pulled herself together, wiped the tears away and thought about what she needed to do. She started with searching Terry. He and Zach always carried all kinds of gizmos with them, but the only thing he had left on him was a wristwatch. She took it off with shaking hands and stuffed it in her pocket.
There were plenty of rags in the barn, but all of them were dirty. Finding a couple of saddle blankets, she wiggled herself back between the barrels and the barn wall and used them to cover herself. It wasn’t very comfortable, and if anyone bothered to search back there, she’d undoubtedly be found, but it was the only place she could think of to hide. She held one of the dirty rags against the cut on her leg and remained deathly still, only checking Terry’s watch occasionally.
When the digital display read twenty-three hundred hours, she worked her way out and cautiously stepped over to the door. She could see the outline of Terry in the dark, or at least she thought she could. She suddenly worried that he might have turned into a zombie. After all, he hadn’t been shot in the head. She stayed as far away from him as she could and tiptoed to the door.
Peeking out, she neither saw nor heard anything out of the ordinary. She was tired, thirsty, and her leg ached, but she knew she had to make her way to the Volvo big rig without being seen. It would have been nice if it was parked immediately outside, but she wasn’t so lucky. It was parked at the main house beside the new barn.
Kelly told herself to be strong, took a deep breath, and started limping toward her objective.
It seemed to take forever, and several times she was afraid she had wandered off in the wrong direction in the darkness, but eventually she saw a fire in the general direction of the house. She walked carefully. Being unarmed, out in the dark of the night with the possibility of zombies or marines nearby, it was almost too much for her. She fought the urge to return to the security of the old barn and kept walking.
There was a key fob hidden under the steps on the driver’s side of the truck, everyone in the group knew about it. She only hoped it was still there. She heard voices as she got close and realized there were people sitting around the bonfire behind the house. Kelly froze and slowly crouched. She didn’t have a clear view of all of them, but she could see Felix. He was passing around a bong and laughing at some unknown joke.
She couldn’t believe it, yet, there he was before her very eyes. Zach’s best friend had indeed betrayed them. She wondered where Zach was a
nd could only assume he was dead as well.
The fob was still there. The locking mechanism seemed ungodly loud when she pushed the unlock button. She involuntarily jerked and crouched down quickly, shooting a jolt of pain up her leg, but she remained quiet. She waited beside the truck, ready to run at the first sign of anyone approaching, until she realized she wasn’t going to be able to out run anyone. She climbed the steps and opened the door as quietly as she could.
It was hard for her to get inside as her leg was really hurting now, but she managed to do it and closed the door gently. Now what, she thought.
Her stomach was groaning with hunger pangs and her mouth was dry, but she didn’t remember where the food and water were stored and she didn’t dare risk turning on the interior dome light. She knew she had a decision to make.
“Alright, I hope this works,” she muttered to herself. She turned the ignition on, waited for the indicator light, and then pushed the starter button. The Volvo fired up immediately. It was loud, too loud. She quickly disengaged the brake, put it in gear, and took off.
It wasn’t until she was about a quarter of a mile down the road when she saw headlights in her side view mirror. They closed the distance fast and she watched as someone leaned out of the passenger side and started firing. She tried desperately to increase her speed as bullets started striking the exterior of the cab, but it was futile trying to out run a passenger car.
“Alright, assholes,” she said, “it’s time to show you a little trick that Fred taught me.” Kelly had the rig’s speed up to sixty now. She knew this section of roadway well. It was the route they always took to the school and radio tower. She hugged the right side of the roadway, leaving plenty of room for the car to drive up beside her. She hoped they would take the bait. They did.
They swerved to the left and maneuvered their car beside her quickly, all the while continuing to shoot at her. Kelly prayed the glass from the bank teller’s windows was really bullet proof as rounds began striking it. She let off the gas and braked hard while simultaneously turning the wheel sharply to the left. The corner of the front bumper caught the car where their front passenger tire was located. Kelly downshifted and floored it. It didn’t take off like a race car, more like a diesel truck weighing several thousand pounds. Nevertheless, the tactic worked. The bumper made contact against her assailant’s tire and pushed the car to the left. They tried to brake, but it didn’t work. They lost control, ran off the roadway and into the ditch.
“Fred would have been so proud of me,” she said. She was grinning, but there were also fresh tears running down her cheeks.
Chapter 56 – Rescue
I was on the outskirts of Joelton and tired as hell. I’d probably only slept three or four hours in the last few days.
I sat on the guardrail warming myself in the noon sun, thinking about the last week. That’s how long I’d been away from my home and family. It seemed like a lifetime ago.
There were four of them lying at my feet. I’d only been walking for ten minutes when the bastards bum rushed me when I walked by a Greyhound bus. Yeah, they were moving quicker than I’d ever seen since all of this shit started. It wouldn’t be long before they would be able to run like track stars.
Fortunately for me, Rick had taught me many things, including unorthodox methods of sharpening blades. He had showed me more than once how to use ceramic of a toilet to use as a sharpening stone. I made use of that knowledge at an abandoned house I slept in, broke off a chunk of ceramic from one of the toilets and honed my machete to a reasonable degree of sharpness. I couldn’t shave with it, but it was sharp enough to dispatch those four before they could chew on me.
If I had a working automobile, I was only about twenty minutes from home, but I was on foot, constantly dodging zombies and wondering how much longer it was going to take. Although I had not seen any Marines in the last two days, I was not able to put in very much mileage. I was constantly encountering packs of zombies. Instead of killing them, I’d hide, unless I had no choice, like the four that bum rushed me. I slept on the top of a semi-trailer one night only to awaken to a pack of them aimlessly milling around. I wondered if somehow they had gotten a scent of me but couldn’t locate my position. They kept me at bay for a full day and a half before finally moving on.
I’d given up on the hopes of finding a running vehicle. I wasted too many hours searching for one, only to encounter dead batteries and empty gas tanks.
I found a bicycle in the house I shacked up in and thought I had struck gold. The tires were flat, but it had one of those little air pumps attached to the rail, so I thought I was in business. Unfortunately, the tires had dry-rotted. I made it about a half a mile before they went flat.
Deciding I was wasting far too much time attempting to find reliable transportation, I reminded myself only to rely on my two feet, which had never let me down.
I had a small amount of luck though, I found a knapsack and on occasion I’d spot innocuous little items in the abandoned cars that I could make use of. I even found a granola bar wedged between the seats of one car. It was old and gooey, but it tasted wonderful.
I took one last look at the zombies who attacked me and began walking, vowing to get at least ten miles in before the sun went down. I probably walked three steps when I heard it. It was a vehicle. More specifically, it sounded like a diesel truck. I ducked into a minivan, which was occupied by a couple of sets of skeletal remains and waited. The truck came into view a couple of minutes later. The driver was having trouble maneuvering around and in between the abandoned vehicles. They used the oversized plow which was affixed to the front bumper, but not with very much efficiency. The driver kept stopping and moving forward timidly instead of busting through the abandoned vehicles.
I recognized the truck. Hell, Fred and I are the ones who found it and modified it. I squinted and tried to focus on who was in it. The current driver, whoever it was, crept along very slowly. I waited somewhat impatiently as it approached. The bulletproof glass that Fred and I had mounted with makeshift brackets was scarred with the impacts of bullets, as was a lot of the truck. The thick glass prevented me from identifying the driver, but they looked like a female. Was it Julie? I jumped out of the minivan and ran toward the truck, waving my arms frantically.
The driver stopped the truck in front of me and a moment later, I heard the sound of the airbrakes being set. The door opened and a woman exited.
It wasn’t Julie, it was Kelly, and she looked like hell. She ran with a limp as she grabbed me in a tight embrace.
“Oh, Zach, I never thought I’d see you again!” she cried. I held her just as tight but held in the emotions that I was feeling as she sobbed in unrestrained despair.
“Holy shit, Kelly, what the hell are you doing way out here?” I asked. She tried to answer, but she was sobbing too hard.
I waited her out, but I was worried the noise would attract attention. I comforted her as best that I could before gently prying her off of me.
“What happened?” I asked. “Where is everyone else?”
“They’re dead, Zach, they’re all dead.”
I inhaled sharply, but before I could ask her for details, I heard the sounds of dogs barking nearby, a lot of them.
“Shit,” I muttered.
“What is it?” she asked as I grabbed her by the arm and walked quickly to the truck.
“It’s a feral dog pack,” I replied. I’d heard them barking earlier and wondered if they had picked up my scent. I gestured at the truck and started moving her along. “We need to get out of here, get in,” I ordered. She obeyed but had trouble climbing the steps. It was then I noticed a tear along the thigh of her jeans and dried bloodstains.
“Hurry up,” I urged and looked down the Interstate. The pack was visible now. There were about ten of them, led by a large alpha male Rottweiler. Any question as to whether or not they had my scent was answered. They were running toward us at a full gallop now. Kelly had grabbed the handrails, but
was still moving slowly. There was no time for niceties. I put my hands on her butt and roughly pushed her into the cab. I jumped in right behind her and managed to get the door closed just as the lead dog leapt up.
“That was a close one,” I said as I watched the pack circling the truck and barking excitedly. They were convinced they had us trapped, which was partially true.
“Alright, we’ll talk in a minute, but right now we’ve got to get out of here, they’re making too much noise.”
“Won’t they follow us?” Kelly asked. I looked back at the dogs, realizing she was right. I gestured toward the pistol on her waist.
“Do you have any other weapons in here?” I asked. She reached into the back and retrieved an M4 assault rifle. I tossed the machete, grabbed the rifle, cleared it, and performed a function check. The magazine had only ten rounds in it. I reinserted it and yanked on the charging handle.
“If I take out that alpha male, I think it’ll scare them off,” I explained. After several minutes of aiming the rifle out of the porthole without results, I opened the door partially and banged on it. As expected, several of the dogs lunged toward the door. The big Rottie pushed his way to the front, which was what I was hoping for. My first shot only wounded him. He yelped, but it stunned him long enough for a head shot. When he fell, one of the other dogs ran up and started sniffing him. I shot him just under the eye. The rest of the pack instantly scattered.
“Okay, we really need to get out of here now,” I said urgently. Kelly nodded in understanding. I put the truck in gear and made a U-turn.
“Talk to me,” I said as I maneuvered the truck around the various obstacles. Kelly had surprisingly found a route from Nolensville through the urban area of Nashville and around the flooded areas. I followed her directions, but I wanted to know what had happened after my abduction.
“Let’s hear it,” I repeated.
“I don’t know exactly what happened, but when you were late coming home, Terry and Andie went looking for you.”