She prepared to leave and gathered up her notebooks and backpack, then drew and checked the Colt .38 Super from the leather holster threaded through her belt. Jay had given it to her as a present, along with the extra three magazines in their own green nylon belt clip. The automatic held nine rounds and the recoil was about as much as she could handle. She wore it religiously now, like her gold cross of Jesus Christ on its slender chain around her neck. She needed to protect herself and her new children. An extra box of rounds rode in her backpack wherever she went.
She was very worried about Ashley. She knew that Army Master Sergeant Darin Trask had offered to take care of her, but that hadn't worked out after Darin's, Jessica saw Ashley's frail blond beauty. Rosita completely understood of course. Rosita had previously known Jessica from the food truck that came to Dove International's Saturday morning distribution center. Rosita had volunteered at the facility, and Jessica was a recipient. You had to get there early to get the best and freshest items, and many a Saturday morning Rosita had said "Hi" to Jessica, who’d often had a black eye or bruised cheek. Rosita hated men that beat their wives, and there were plenty of them out there. She guessed Jessica's husband finally made up for his drunken lapses by giving his life to grant a few extra moments of life to his wife and children, just long enough for Jay to get to them. Secretly she was glad the puto had not lived.
Miguel knew his Ros would cut his testiculo off if he ever raised a hand to her, but it was an idle thought, as he would never do that sort of thing. He was a kind and gentle man with her and his family. That was her Miguel. Yet he was quite unforgiving when it came to some of the farmhands that would stagger through their poor section of Newaygo after getting drunk. Every Mexican man carried a folding knife or box cutter now, and she had quickly learned how to suture her man up after he administered old style justice on those in their community deserving of it. She was also proud of the fact Jay had placed Miguel in such a high position. Her man was finally being used as he deserved. She smiled at the thought.
That Ashley though. Hmmmm. Rosita didn't know what to think of her. The girl had been through more than most people. Ros wasn't sure if she was sane or not though. When Ashley had awoken earlier this morning before falling back asleep, she'd simply sat up and stared off into space for a long while, and did not seem to hear words spoken to her; then she had looked at Rosita and said "Thank you for taking care of me," in almost perfect Spanish. They had gotten along though and even laughed together during that brief period of wakefulness, although the thought that this girl spoke to Jesus and the Angels was a bit unnerving. Ros really didn't think she spoke to divine beings. Rather, Ashley was delusional from what she had been forced through in her short life. Still, the way she seemed to know things and learn a bit too quickly was uncanny, like her sudden fluent Spanish. Well, it was Jay's problem now. Rosita finished shouldering the backpack and exited their bedroom to find a soldier there waiting.
"Soldier man, you are here to take me to nursery, yes?" she asked in her typical cold voice, while a stern expression adorned her face. She only had to get the other women started on what to do. She would check on them again this afternoon. She knew a majority of the soldiers accompanying them would stay and that only a partial squad would see her safely back but she wasn't worried too much.
"Yes Ma'am. Whenever you're ready," he replied.
She smiled then, and followed him downstairs where three large trucks waited. She saw her helpers already in the back of one of those and climbed in beside them. It was only moments before they started and were on their way.
The trip to the greenhouse was uneventful and short. It was only a mile out of town. They waited with impatience while the soldiers ran around making sure none of the undead were hiding, and used bolt cutters on the padlocked doors. Rosita was anxious to get started, as there was so much to do. They needed to get this greenhouse replanted, then she needed to check on her work groups gathering farm surplus.
Finally, they were told it was safe and the girls could get down now. Rosita gathered up her pack and jumped down. Before her were four very large greenhouses. This was going to be a lot of work, was her only thought as she reached the door of the first and opened it, only to fall back in shock and horror as a zombie came through, reaching for her. Frantically she shoved her backpack into its grasping arms as she tripped trying to get away. Then the soldiers were there firing. The one she had first met was standing over her, firing into the interior. She had drawn her own gun by then and was pointing it inside, between his legs. Then two more soldiers were there, firing while moving into the nursery, and then another was helping her to her feet while handing her back her pack of seeds and supplies.
"Sorry about that Ma'am, it's my fault. We forgot to check the inside as the door was padlocked. There must be another entrance for them to get in. Please wait here while we clear it."
Rosita nodded and backed up to the truck with her pistol ready. She had no intention of dying right now, for she was needed by four tiny niños.
*****
DAY 8: 0900 ET FRIDAY NOVEMBER 11TH
Larry gunned the Suzuki King Quad 750 four-wheel ATV with Jaime, Rod and Bruce right behind him on other various Quads. In single file, they wove around both the stalled cars and the zombies littering the streets of Kent City. The four of them had a system worked out. So far, that system had successfully saved their lives while building up their supplies. Every morning they dispatched the zombies around the high school. Sometimes that was difficult because the building was right on the edge of city limits, but still doable using five man/woman teams.
"Radio check, everyone read me?" Larry called out. He was safety paranoid and was always checking their two-way voice-activated radio headsets. A chorus of ayes and hell yeahs filled his ear, then one of them, Rod, gave a rebel yell.
"Yee haw. Watch me go. I'm getting the highest kill count today, bros." And he was already standing up on the foot rests while gunning his Kawasaki one-handed and swinging the sharp edge of his machete through the neck of the first.
"Damn it Rod, be careful. Crazy sombitch!" Jaime called back, but controlling Rod was like trying to control the wind. It was all over the place and everywhere at once, like Rod.
"Rod, stay with your teammate. Remember man, we work as teams. You almost bought it yesterday by getting too far ahead when you tipped over. Don't hit any more of them with your bike either. That got you into trouble the day before." Larry was getting a bit irritated at his lifelong friend. The man took excessive chances. It was fine if you were to get yourself killed, but if you got your teammate killed, well, that was a different story. Yesterday, Rod had fucked up twice and they had chewed his ass when they got back. He promised not to Lone Ranger it this time but it was looking like his promises, as usual, weren't worth the breath they were given in for he was already fifty yards ahead of the rest of them. Jaime was hurrying to catch up to Rod, and narrowly avoided a reaching zombie that stumbled from around a van.
"Rod! If you don't get your ass back here now you’re off the team for good. Your last warning was yesterday!" Larry was shouting into his microphone. "You almost got Jaime snatched trying to keep up. Man, I'm warning you, I'll shoot you myself if you get someone hurt. If you don't come back you're on your own and never again on the teams."
"Ok man, sorry. Got carried away. This is fun!" Rod was turning around and headed back. Seeing this, Jaime slowed his four-wheeler down. It was one thing to cruise around at thirty to forty miles per hour. It was another to go blazing around at sixty.
They had all been close neighbors who had lived side by side in row houses, which made up most of Kent City, when everything came apart. Then, people were fighting in the streets and there were too many zombies trying to eat you and not enough of the uninfected to fight them. For two days, it had been touch and go with some friends turning into the undead creatures because of the tainted vaccinations and others being killed by them. By the second day they had already save
d over fifty survivors and people were getting crowded, not to mention hungry. By the fifth day they were out of food and had to move as they now numbered over a hundred.
They had quickly relocated to the high school, which was ideal for their purposes because of its concrete block and steel structure and very thick, high impact glass for windows. Every exterior door was reinforced steel and each could be securely bolted shut and barred. It also had a propane boiler for heat, which had recently been refilled, so they should be good for the entire winter. If not, there was plenty of propane lying around. The high school also had an emergency propane generator that not only powered every fourth light in the facility, but also provided electricity to special electrical outlets in each room, and to the furnace. They had also secured a gasoline tanker that happened to be at Wesco when everything fell apart. The tanker they had parked well back from the school. No sense in taking too many chances, after all.
It was also on the fifth day that they started hearing chatter on the CBs from Newaygo, but were careful to stay silent themselves. Larry had considered giving them a call but in the end had elected not to. Newaygo had their own problems, and Kent City was getting its routine down, a routine they had quickly developed to survive. Newaygo had offered some great advice over the airwaves though, like dousing yourself with kerosene would make the zombies ignore you, and raiding the local farmers’ fields could provide you with leftover produce like potatoes, cabbages, carrots and other crops. Currently they had several crews out doing just that, under heavy guard.
Today they were making the normal rounds at nine AM, which was the time the zombies moved the slowest and were the least out, which meant driving through neighborhoods while looking for more survivors. Already they had found just over two hundred in total, and there might still be more out there. If they did not find any, they would harass the zombies into following them away from the grocery stores so others with trucks could load up on more supplies. Early in the Apocalypse, they had lost a few people in supply trucks. The zombies would crowd around the vehicle and get underneath, effectively stalling the truck in place. Then the combined weight of their mass would break the windows. At that point, it was all over for the occupants.
Zombie harassing was a fine art form. Suckers were getting fast, so you had to be careful and quick. All four of the team members had machetes and would zoom by, lopping heads off on the run. The careful part was swinging in at the last moment. The quick part was zooming back out before the others could get to you, for they were starting to pack up. Still it was a slow day when they didn't take down at least forty or fifty of the suckers, and Rod was already five ahead of them but Larry didn't care. He only cared that they made it back alive and in one piece. They had installed a PA system on his ATV, and now he opened his face shield as they cruised down the first drive just east off of Main Street while lifting the microphone to his mouth.
"Attention! Calling anybody still alive. We have food, heat, secure shelter available, and are located at the high school. If anyone is alive and can hear this, give us a sign. Gunshot or smoke, or call out and we'll rescue you. We can carry four back at a time. If any children can hear this, throw something out into the street. Make sure we see it or make a sign as we drive past. Your parents are probably at the high school already waiting for you." This last was said because quite a few of the survivors they had rescued were children whose parents were zombies, or had fought the zombies and not survived. Too many, in fact. They had rescued over a dozen children yesterday, their ages ranging from around five or six all the way to fourteen. Larry quickly checked to make sure the AR-15 fastened to his handlebars was chambered with a live round and that his .45 was loose in its leg holster, held down by a Velcro strap.
Once again a team, they slowly drove down each street as Larry broadcast his message. At twenty-five yards apart they were close enough to provide support if needed and they kept the speed down so they could watch the windows of the houses they passed.
There! Larry saw a hand waving in the window of a nearby house just ahead. The PA system was really loud and could be heard for blocks. It would probably deafen them if they weren't all wearing helmets.
"Bruce, close up. Jaime and Rod, you guys run interference. I see a hand waving in the picture window of the green house on the left." Bruce quickly closed on him as Larry rode up into the yard, his machete swinging, to take down three zombies who appeared to be watching the house and ignoring everything else. Nearby he saw other zombies headed their way but Jaime and Rod were already on them, running through their ranks and lopping off heads. Larry saw more coming from around other nearby homes as he and Bruce rode to the front porch of the ranch-style house. He put his four-wheeler in neutral and hollered.
"Come out two at a time!"
The door cracked open and a small face peered out then moved further into view. Larry saw it was a young girl, maybe nine or ten; behind her another figure moved into view, a boy slightly younger. The girl crept to the edge of the porch as Larry waved her to come forward.
"Our parents are dead. It's just the two of us. You say it's safe where you are? We're really hungry."
"Yes girl. Climb on. Bruce behind me will take your brother."
"He's not my brother, he's my neighbor. His parents are dead also."
"Doesn't matter, are there any more of you inside?"
"No, just the two of us and we're hungry."
"Then climb on and hold tight. We‘re running out of time." He patted the seat behind him. She was already wearing a thick winter coat, and no wonder. It was probably all of forty degrees out. Her blondish brown hair was all matted but that didn't matter. The only thing that mattered was getting them to safety, and quickly. Already more zombies were closing on them. Jaime and Rod were weaving in and around their ranks thinning them out but the suckers were multiplying faster than they could be taken down.
The girl quickly climbed on behind him, wrapping her arms around his waist. Looking over his shoulder he saw the slightly younger boy doing the same behind Bruce so he gunned it, weaving back and forth, dodging zombies.
"Hold on tight girl. What's your name? Mine's Larry."
"Missy."
"Well hold tight Missy. We'll be to safety in about five minutes," and Larry poured on a bit more speed. Ahead to his left he saw a crowd of zombies moving out into the road and immediately rode up on the lawn to his right while unlimbering his machete. Bruce followed right behind, while Jaime and Rod swung wide left to try to get around them and redirect the zombies prey capture techniques, which basically consisted of swarming anything resembling food to them.
The zombies were getting nearer and it would be a close one. Larry gave the four-wheeler more gas; he didn't even bother shaking his head as to his left Rod did what Rod always did, swinging in fast one-handed, to lop a couple of heads off with his machete. Christ. It didn't work this time, as he saw a zombie lurch in Rod's path. The zombie and ATV connected, both flipping over. The last thing Larry saw was Rod flying through the air, and then he was curving around the right edge of the zombies and bouncing over the curb back into the road while feeling Missy's arms tighten around him in a death grip.
"Keep holding tight Missy!" he shouted over his shoulder as he raced another fifty feet ahead, then slammed on the brakes, spinning them sideways and around in a one-eighty facing back the way they had come. Jerking the quick release Velcro straps off his AR he lifted it and started firing into the zombies around Rod. At well under a hundred feet, headshots were easy. The herd had already converged on Rod's downed form and Larry feared the worst. Bruce had pulled up beside them and was also firing into the crowd of undead.
Then Jaime came flying in on his four-wheeler and performed a perfect drop jump. Just as his front tires hit the body of a zombie lying in the road he jerked back on the steering wheel while throwing his weight backwards. Then, bouncing on his heels, he floated the ATV into an instant forty-five degree angle, slamming into the mass of zombies. It
actually worked and Larry blinked in surprise as he saw his friend bouncing through downed zombies like a kangaroo on a pogo stick, then spin around again to repeat the process. Jaime had them distracted in a major way and it took only seconds for Larry and Bruce to finish off the three still on top of Rod.
Larry refastened the AR to the handlebars and gunned the Suzuki forward, slowing when he reached Rod who really looked a fucking mess. He reached down with his left hand, grabbed him by the collar of his leather jacket, and while holding his arm out as far as he could sideways he dragged him off at twenty-five miles per hour. He figured a few road burns and maybe a broken leg if it swept under the rear tire would be a small price to pay for getting Rod to safety. Besides, he was pissed off as hell at his friend for getting stupid on them again.
"Let go of me man, you're killing me." Rod was obviously fully awake now as his body thumped up and down on the asphalt. They were well clear so Larry instantly released him and came to another stop, looking over his shoulder again and seeing Bruce and Jaime right behind him stopping also. The zombies were over a hundred yards away and just starting in their direction. "I have to go back for my bike. Cover me bro." Rod was obviously delusional and Larry shook his head.
"No way, it's fine where it is. We'll get it later. Right now, we need to get these kids to safety and get you patched up. How many times were you bitten?"
"Fuck, I don't know, a few for sure. I'm glad I was wearing my leather jacket and kept my arms over my face. Shit, they hurt." Rod was examining the backs of his forearms and biceps. Larry could see quite a few bite marks there and a few more on his legs, which were bleeding even heavier, as the denim did not protect as well against bites as the thick leather jacket did.
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