Zombie Rules (Book 5): Mount Weather

by David Achord

  “Yeah, I’ve missed you too,” Fred admitted. “Why did the senator come?”

  “Apparently, she and Stark butted heads over something and he banished her. So, she came here. But, I’m not here to talk about the senator.”

  Sarah stepped forward and pulled her T-shirt over her head. Fred hesitated only a moment before embracing her and kissed her passionately. At some point, his towel fell to the floor.

  “I think Rachel knew this was coming before I did,” she said. The two of them were lying on their backs, the blankets pulled aside. In spite of the breeze, they’d worked up quite a sweat and the sheets were soaked.

  “And she’s fine with it?” Fred asked.

  “Oh, we’ve not been intimate in a while. I mean, we’re still close, but I think we’ve both come to realize our relationship began because of nothing more than loneliness and lust rather than a true emotional bond. Besides, sometimes I feel like I’m more of her big sister than her lover.”

  Fred grunted quietly. “I haven’t been with anyone since you,” he said.

  Sarah turned her head and looked at him in the dark. She then reached out and interlaced her fingers with his.

  “I’m going to tell her when we go back,” she said.

  “Tell her what?”

  “I’ve got my man back and I’m not going to let him slip away again.”

  “I believe I’d like that,” Fred said.

  Chapter 42 – The Greenhouse

  Sarah caught Fred looking at her as everyone ate breakfast. He actually broke into a smile. It was a small smile, but a smile nonetheless. She felt blood rushing to her face and hurriedly sipped some coffee. Fred sipped some of his own coffee and looked away.

  “Jim,” Fred said.

  “Yes, Fred?”

  “I couldn’t help but notice there are parts to a greenhouse stacked in the barn.”

  “Are you referring to that stack of aluminum and Plexiglas?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, I’ll be. I wondered what all of that stuff was. I’ve been waiting for Parvis to pay us a visit and ask him about it.”

  “How do you know it’s a greenhouse?” Caroline asked.

  “Because it’s one of mine,” Fred replied.

  “What do you mean, one of yours?” Linda asked.

  “Back before, I had a manufacturing company that built greenhouses. That one is one of mine.”

  “So, that thing has been sitting in the barn for a few years now,” Jim said. “Do you think all of the parts are still there?”

  “They appear to be. If not, we can improvise. Parvis has that barn full of doo-dads.”

  “My my,” Sarah said. “Not only are you a cowboy, you’re an entrepreneur too. I’m impressed.” She extended a booted foot under the table and rubbed against his shin. He didn’t smile this time, but Sarah noticed a slight twitch at the corner of his mouth as he tried to fight it.

  “Well, life is certainly full of surprises,” Jim said with a big grin. “Is it easy to assemble?”

  “It will be with me supervising,” Fred replied. “I think we should put it right there,” Fred said, pointing out the back window.

  “Right off the back patio?” Esther Polacek asked incredulously. “Why, that’ll ruin this scenic view. That’s one of the only good things we have around here.”

  “When can we start?” Jim asked, ignoring the senator.

  “How about after breakfast?”

  The den had a set of French doors which opened to the large back patio. It was pea gravel which glistened from being professionally sealed. There was also a high-end stainless barbeque grill to one side, a couple of concrete planters with dead plants, and a rectangular lap pool which was currently full of leaves and stagnant water.

  They looked around and discussed the location for the greenhouse and ultimately agreed on a spot which would offset the greenhouse from the main house so the view wouldn’t be obscured. Fred didn’t say how he wanted it to be hidden from the road and went along. After all, he had other things on his mind and found himself looking at Sarah again.

  “I think my contrary wife should stand guard,” Burt said. “In case those zombies have friends out there somewhere.”

  Everyone readily agreed.

  It took most of the day, but they had installed the last Plexiglas panel a few minutes before sundown. When Fred put the final screw in, everyone exchanged congratulatory fist bumps.

  “This is great, Fred,” Jim said with a grin. “I have all kinds of ideas of what to grow.”

  “Find something to repurpose into small wood stoves,” Fred said. “Put one at each end and you can keep it warm enough to grow throughout the winter.”

  “I’ll certainly do that,” Jim said.

  Fred looked over at Sarah, who was smiling at him again. Fred fought it, but could not help himself and grinned as well. He was still grinning when Sarah’s chest exploded.

  Chapter 43 – Sniper

  “Take cover!” Fred shouted. Another gunshot punctuated his command, jarring everyone out of their momentary paralysis. The Hassburg women were standing on the back patio and quickly ran inside. The rest ducked for cover.

  Fred quickly determined the direction of the gunshot and put the greenhouse in between himself and the hidden sniper. He made a quick peek at Sarah. She was on her back, staring back at Fred. She was still alive, but looked bad. He crouched and started to sprint toward her, but she shook her head violently.

  “No!” she croaked. She had a coughing fit and blood spurted from her mouth. Then she went limp.

  Fred continued staring before a bullet struck the aluminum frame of the greenhouse no less than an inch from his head. He ducked back and looked for the rest. Anne and Burt were hugging the ground grimacing in a mixture of surprise and anger. Jim was hunkered down behind a large concrete planter. He was obviously frightened, but keeping a cool head.

  The only one who was losing it was the esteemed Senator Esther Polacek, who was standing motionless, staring at Sarah with saucers for eyes.

  “Get down, Senator!” he yelled. She slowly turned toward him and stared, but Fred could tell she was in sensory meltdown. She did not even appear to recognize him.

  No matter. Another gunshot rang out. It hit her in the back and came out of her chest in a furious eruption of blood and tissue, much like it had with Sarah only seconds before. She fell face forward without saying a word.

  Fred saw Sarah’s M4 leaning up against the greenhouse, no more than ten feet from him. He took a chance and darted to it. More gunshots rang out as he grabbed it and dived back around the corner of the greenhouse. Several blew large holes in the Plexiglas, but they missed Fred by several feet.

  “What do we do?” Jim asked nervously.

  Fred hastened another peek. As he watched, another round hit the planter, blasting out a chunk of concrete the size of his fist. The sniper was using a large caliber rifle. Fred could only hope his shoulder was aching from the recoil.

  “Alright, when I start shooting, I want you to run inside as fast as you can,” Fred directed.

  “What about you?” Burt shouted from inside.

  “I’m fine, as long as I stay put. I’m guessing there’s more than one and they’re probably circling around to the front of the house. Burt?”

  “Yeah, Fred?” Burt shouted back from inside the house.

  “You and Anne cover the front. Kill anyone you see, no questions asked.”

  “But, they may be friendly.”

  Fred looked around to see who said it. It was one of Jim’s daughters. Caroline, he believed.

  “There aren’t any friendlies out there. Alright, get ready.”

  “What about Sarah and Esther?” Jim asked.

  “They’re dead,” Fred answered. “Now shut up and get ready to move.”

  He checked the magazine on the M4, flipped the selector from safe to semi, and took a deep breath. He lunged around the corner, firing multiple times toward the wood line where he t
hought the sniper was. He emptied the magazine as Jim jumped up and ran toward the back door.

  His tactic worked. There was a singular return gunshot, but it only succeeded in striking the flower planter.

  “What now, partner?” Burt yelled from somewhere inside.

  “Go to a window and give me some covering fire,” Fred said. “But be careful.” He didn’t want to tell Burt that maybe Anne was best suited for the job and hoped he figured it out for himself.

  It took less than a minute before he heard the sound of gunfire coming from a window at the far end of the house. Fred crouched and ran for the back door. He ducked to one side and someone slammed the door shut behind him.

  “Don’t show yourselves in front of the windows, but get all of the drapes closed,” he ordered. Cynthia and Caroline hurried to make it so as he began pushing furniture up against the French doors.

  “Alright, you two girls, get upstairs and keep a look out, but stay back from the windows. Burt and Annie, take each end of the house. Jim, watch the front. Linda, watch the back.”

  Nobody argued; they knew they were under attack and Fred’s directives made sense.

  “I wonder who it is,” Jim said to nobody in particular.

  “Marauders, maybe,” Fred replied.

  They waited. There was no additional gunfire, but fifteen minutes later, Jim shouted out.

  “There’s someone walking up the driveway!” he nervously shouted.

  Fred walked forward and looked through a crack in the draperies. He was a younger man, maybe in his late teens, every bit as tall as Zach. But, unlike Zach, this one was skinny as a rail and had a face full of acne. His hair was a greasy tangle of dog shit brown, and his clothes looked like they hadn’t been washed in a while. He whistled while he walked. Fred didn’t know what irritated him more, the man’s casual attitude or the off-note tune he was whistling.

  “I got a couple of men crouching down behind some trees on the other side of the road,” Burt said.

  The man walked up to the front porch and knocked on the door.

  “Hello? Anybody home?”

  Fred walked over and watched him through the peephole. The young man peeped back.

  “I know you’re in there,” he said in a singsong voice.

  “Shouldn’t we talk to him?” Jim whispered.

  “No need to,” Fred replied. “They ain’t looking to palaver.”

  Fred stepped back and looked at the door. It was a standard entry door, a metal shell with a hollow inside. Probably filled with some type of Styrofoam product, Fred surmised. He drew his pistol, unloaded the forty-four hollow points, and replaced them with full metal jacket rounds.

  He looked back through the peephole at about the same time the young man knocked again. Louder and more forcibly this time.

  “You people need to open the door, or else there will be consequences!” he yelled.

  Fred moved over to the other side of the door and responded with a soft knock. He watched as the young man pressed his eye against the peephole. Fred stepped back, leveled the barrel where he estimated the man’s belly button was, and fired twice.

  The man screamed in agony as he fell in a heap to the porch.

  “Get back,” Fred admonished and quickly led Jim back into the kitchen. As he suspected, once the man regained his wits, he fired several times through the door with his own handgun. His friends joined him and fired several rounds through the windows. Fred turned up the walnut dining table and pulled Jim down behind it. They hunkered down behind the table and waited as the gunfire continued. After a couple of minutes, the gunfire died down until it was only an occasional shot or two. He then yelled out so everyone in the house could hear him.

  “Alright, everyone, they’re going to lay siege, take pot shots, and hope we do something foolish.”

  They lay there behind the table and listened to the man moaning in pain and calling out to his friends.

  “Are we going to help him?” somebody yelled down from upstairs.

  Jim looked at Fred questioningly. Fred gave a slight shake of his head.

  “No, honey,” Jim said. “If anyone goes outside, they’ll shoot us.”

  The man groaned again and called for help. His voice was weaker this time. It won’t be long now, Fred thought.

  “Do you think they’ll come for him?” Jim asked.

  Fred gave another slight shake of his head. “He was expendable, that’s why they sent him. They wanted to see if we have guns and if we would use them.”

  “So, we’re going to let him die an agonizing death, huh?”

  Fred did not bother with an answer.

  “So, what do we do now?” Jim asked. Fred reloaded as he looked over at Jim. He could see the anxiety etched on his face. Fred reloaded his pistol and looked outside. He could only see Sarah’s legs from his position, but it was enough to steel his resolve. He looked up at the setting sun. Complete darkness was not for another two hours.

  “What do we do?” Jim asked again.

  “We wait ‘til dark.”

  He looked out one of the back windows. He could see more of Sarah now. He was going to cry, he knew he would, but that would have to wait. He hoped whoever shot her didn’t get bored and leave.

  Chapter 44 – Time to Hunt

  “Jim, what size shoe do you wear?” Fred asked him as he looked at the Nikes Jim was wearing.

  “Size ten, why?” he asked.

  Fred nodded. “Same as me. Are those comfortable?”

  “Yes, they’re Nikes.”

  Fred began taking off his cowboy boots and motioned for Jim to swap with him.

  “Uh, I’m not much of a cowboy boots kind of guy, Fred,” he said.

  “I’ll give ‘em back in the morning, the good Lord willing,” Fred replied.

  Jim looked at Fred warily before taking them off. “These are two hundred dollar shoes,” he muttered as he handed them over.

  Fred nodded and put them on.

  “Anything else you want?” he asked.

  “I need something to camouflage my face, like charcoal, or something similar.”

  Jim thought for a moment. “The girls have their makeup sitting in the bathroom closet.”

  “It’ll have to do,” Fred replied.

  Jim low crawled up the stairs to his daughter’s bathroom. He came back a minute later carrying a metal case.

  “Are you going to do what I think you’re going to do?” Jim asked as he began streaking Fred’s face with dark eye shadow.

  “They ain’t going away,” Fred replied. “This is our best chance.” He saw Jim looking at him like he was having a hard time understanding. He tried to explain.

  “My guess is they’ll try some type of attack after dark. If they’re not hurting for provisions, they’ll probably set the house on fire to draw everyone out. If they’re hurting for food, they’ll try a different tactic.”

  “Like what?” Jim asked, the nervousness in his voice growing.

  “Either a direct attack, or they’ll try to sneak in, or put up harassing fire all night, wear us down, and then try to get us to surrender.”

  “Is that not a viable option?” Jim asked.

  “No,” Fred answered. “They’ll kill everyone. Maybe not your daughters. They’re pretty girls and still young.”

  “I see,” Jim said. “Is there anything I can do?”

  “Yeah. I’m going to need you to stay up all night and stay alert. If you hear anyone messing around the doors or windows, get ready to shoot. If it’s me, I’m going to say,” he paused a minute. It was possible whoever was out there knew Fred’s name. He looked down and noticed the shoes.

  “I’m going to say Nike. Got it?”

  “Nike,” Jim repeated.

  “Yeah. If you don’t hear that, even if someone says something like, ‘hey, it’s me, Fred,’ I want you to shoot, okay?”

  “Yeah, okay.”

  It was almost dark now, and Fred used the time to determine which door or windo
w would be the best manner to exit the house. It was then he remembered the garage. There was one bay door still open. His plan was to slip out through the utility room door and out through the garage. He only hoped there was nobody in the garage lying in wait.

  “Alright,” Fred said quietly. “It’s time.”

  Jim stared at him and after a second held his hand out. “Good luck, Fred McCoy.”

  Fred shook his hand and gave him a nod. A somber nod.

  Fred crawled over to the door in the utility room that led to the garage. He spit on the hinges so they wouldn’t squeak, but even so, he expected gunfire to ring out as soon as he opened the door. As soon as he turned the doorknob, he moved out of the way and used the handle of a broom to push it the rest of the way. He waited for five full minutes, occasionally waving the broom back and forth in an effort to draw fire.

  Nothing but silence.

  Fred moved out quickly and ducked down behind the Subaru Outback Jim and his family left Mount Weather in. There was a hint of a moon peeking out from behind clouds and there was fog starting to roll in. It wasn’t much light, but it was all Fred needed.

  He waited.

  Fred had his six-shooter, eighteen rounds of ammo left, and his knife. The same one he killed Snake with. He didn’t bring a rifle with him. He needed his hands free for what he had in mind.

  It took thirty more minutes before he heard a soft footfall and a shadow appeared from behind a large elm tree in the front yard.

  The person was armed with some type of long gun. He made a beeline toward the garage and thought it’d be a great idea to hide beside the Subaru where Fred was crouched down. Fred met him with his knife.

  The point of it went up under the chin, through the epiglottis, and sunk deep enough to pierce the vertebrae. Fred didn’t know it, but he’d stabbed the newest member of the Blackjacks, T-Dawg. T-Dawg was twenty-nine and was living with a group in Riverton, West Virginia before being kicked out for stealing. They gave him a shotgun and the clothes on his back. He had not eaten in five days when the Blackjacks found him.

  Fred caught the weapon before it clambered onto the concrete floor and watched the man drop. He emitted a gurgling noise for a few seconds before becoming silent. He felt the long gun in the dark and determined it was a pump action shotgun. Fred stuck his finger in the open end of the tubular magazine. It was full of rounds.