“Looks like you’ve even got a generator under that bench.” Tom had been looking over the room during Chuck’s little speech; there wasn’t anything he could think of deemed necessary, that he couldn’t locate here on these shelves. He was stunned by the revelation that all this, and one careful owner, had been living two doors down for, well, a long time, and he’d barely even met the guy, let alone knew of this. Secrecy, of course, was probably a crucial part of his plan.
“The only problem I can envisage is that it’s down here, when really it needs to be in the truck.” Tom noticed Chuck’s use of the definite article ‘the’, not ‘your’ when referring to the truck. As he’d alluded to earlier, ownership really was a flexible issue. It seemed the truck ownership would now be joint, in exchange for sharing supplies. Tom had no issues with that.
“That’s no problem, Chuck. We’re can-do guys. We’ve come a long way so far, and the journey ain’t over yet.” Tom was overwhelmed by their apparent good fortune. He would never have guessed in a million years that Chuck, his re-discovered neighbour, might just be the advantage they needed to get through this. He certainly seemed to understand survival, a skill Tom and BB would have to acquire ‘on the job’.
“That’s great,” Chuck responded, thinking for a moment. “I don’t think we ought to take all the supplies in one go; we can leave half here, remaining hidden, no problem. If we have an issue getting away and into the mountains, I don’t want to lose it all in one go. Know what I mean?”
“Yeah, I do,” BB replied, thinking back on the challenges they had encountered just getting to Tom’s burnt out shell of a house. If they’d had anything worthwhile in the original truck, it would have been left behind in the hands of the Infected, or at least surrounded by them.
“Do you have a generator at your cabin?” Chuck asked.
“Yes, but it’s probably low on fuel. We usually take gas with us when we go up there. Otherwise the insurance companies see it as a fire hazard.”
“Well, those blood suckers won’t have much of a say anymore. If we start by taking half of everything on the shelves up to the truck, I’ll sort out the ammo and firepower. Then I’ll give you a hand.”
Chuck had taken control now, his expertise being defence on the ground, survival of the fittest. The survival training the two pilots had received as long haul pilots was a tongue-in-cheek gesture. All it was supposed to do was extend their ability to survive for a few hours in the event of being able to walk away from controlled flight into terrain, or CFIT as it’s known in the trade.
*
Earlier in the day, two men, real chancers, named Earl and Wayne, had found themselves in Chautauqua Park. They were exhausted; their forays into Boulder for supplies had been largely unsuccessful, almost ending in their deaths when they had become surrounded by dozens of those living dead things. Someone, God knew who, driving an armoured personnel carrier with a machine gun mounted on top, had driven along the street they’d been on, and had machine-gunned everything standing. Only their canny survival instincts had allowed them to realise that by dropping to the ground and playing dead, they might survive this onslaught. The noise and destruction seemed to go on forever, the large calibre slugs ripping through bodies like they were bottles of coloured water, spraying the area in thick, red juice with bits.
By the end of the attack, Wayne had been close to madness, gibbering like a man possessed. It was only when Earl had slapped him, out of sheer frustration, that he had come back to normality. Both had been shaken to the core by the sheer violence of the incident, and swore never to be caught unawares again. They had scoured the town for bigger weapons to replace their pistols, deciding their salvation lay in firepower; after all, had they not just seen proof positive of this?
Due to their own body heat and sweat, they were beginning to stink from the blood in which they had been drenched, as it began to rot in their clothing and on their skin. At last they found an abandoned house with a swimming pool. The power must have still been working, as the water was warmer than they had expected, and it had been wonderful cleaning the disgusting remnants off.
“This is amazing, Wayne,” Earl had cried, throwing himself around in the water like a child, “Gee, wouldn’t it have been great to grow up with this stuff?”
“Nah, couldn’t stand the ‘Burbs. Too many nosey bastards, just waiting to see who failed next.”
“Yeah, but with a pool like this, can you imagine the barbeques and the hot chicks in bikinis? That’s the life.”
“I think you spent too much time watching MTV, you ass. Life ain’t like that.” Wayne had simply removed his soiled clothes and used the pool as an oversized bath, washing the muck off. Now he was standing by the edge, shivering in the cold air. “Let’s get some clothes. I’m goddam freezing.”
Sighing in surrender, Earl got out of the pool and picked up his pistol and newly acquired rifle. Using the butt of the rifle, Earl easily broke the double glazed French Windows, and entered the house, pistol at the ready. Discovering no occupiers, they ransacked the place, and managed to find enough clothing to suit their needs. The family that had lived there were heavily into skiing, and their warm clothing reflected that fact. As a result, they now looked like trendy ski bums, their military style boots looking oddly out of place with the new look.
The pair now found themselves in Chautauqua Park, skulking behind a stone wall, further hidden by shrubs that demarked the edge of the park. Trying to determine their next actions, they had been startled as an elderly man had suddenly, out of nowhere, arisen from behind a hedge, and begun to wander around the area, dazed, clearly looking for something, before finally giving up and collapsing on a stone outcrop in one of the gardens. He then rested his head in his hands, and had cried. It was at that point the two crooks finally agreed he wasn’t one of those zombie things; Wayne had wanted to take a pop at him to try out their new guns. Earl felt guilty watching the man crying, it was a very personal moment.
“Hey, Wayne. Why don’t we get him to come with us? Seems he’s all alone.”
Wayne looked askance at his life-long buddy, wondering what was happening to him. Ever since this infection thing had struck, he was behaving differently, almost like he was getting soft. It made Wayne sick. The opportunity they now had to make their lives better would take real guts, and he was beginning to think Earl didn’t have what it would take.
“I’m pretty sure I didn’t hear you say that. Who the hell wants some old fart tagging along, slowing us down? Huh?” Wayne replied.
“He reminds me of Pa.”
“What? Your Pa? If that’s what you wanna call him, the bastard, he used to take the belt to you so much, that in the end you’d run away to my place until his temper settled. Jeez, what are you on?”
“He had his good moments,” Earl replied, defensively.
“When he wasn’t drinkin’, which was never. The answer is no, and I don’t want to hear any more about it.”
Earl settled down to sulk, and so they had remained out of sight, waiting, grateful for the protection of their ski-wear against the biting cold. With the arrival of the military truck, things had become more interesting. Two men got out and had gone over to one of the burnt out homes. It had clearly belonged to of one of them. They’d met the old guy, who they’d nearly shot in fright, and after some conversation, he’d shown them what looked like a hatch leading underground. Earl and Wayne had moved along the wall, remaining under cover, to get a better view of the proceedings.
“Good things come to those who just sit and wait,” Wayne paraphrased. He was patient when he wanted to be, especially if he thought he would profit.
“Wonder what’s in it?” Earl wondered.
“Whatever it is, it was hidden, so it’s worth something.”
Once the men had started to load the truck with goodies, Wayne’s grin of satisfaction grew bigger. Whatever Earl wanted to do, Wayne’s intention was to hijack the load. It could be the seed with which to grow
his black market enterprise, after all, bad times always needed one. He sat back and let those men do the hard work.
*
Tom and BB had generated a serious sweat from loading the truck, and their bodies were really appreciating the exercise. Up to this point, they had spent a huge proportion of their journey sitting. The exercise was a blessed relief.
Having sorted out a suitable quantity of weaponry, ammunition, tooling and ingredients to enable the reloading of spent shells, Chuck had finally joined in the heavy work.
After an hour, they had finished loading and securing the supplies. Pleased with themselves, the only thing left to do was to cover their tracks. It was imperative that no-one discover the stash of remaining goods, they had no idea how necessary and precious they might be in the near future, and certainly didn’t want to offer them gift-wrapped to someone else. Tom had phoned Daniel earlier, before commencing the loading, and told him of the change of plans. He could hear that neither Daniel nor Rob were happy about it, but at least they did understand the imperative that was driving Tom to make this decision. They would meet up again, hopefully sometime late tomorrow, all things being equal.
Satisfied there were no signs of disturbance amongst the burnt debris, they walked out to the vehicle. To their surprise, they were confronted by two men wearing flashy ski-wear, carrying automatic carbines. If the situation hadn’t been so scary - neither Tom nor BB had ever been on the business end of a rifle - the three men might have been inclined to laugh at the spectacle.
“Freeze! Stay where you are!” one of the ski-clowns cried, looking slightly nervous. It was clearly his first time performing highway robbery.
Tom, BB and Chuck froze at the command, staring at the new threat.
“Right. Now, take those gun belts off, slowly. Toss them over there,” he commanded, pointing with his gun. “Don’t try anything stupid,” he finished. The other one stood nervously next to his mate, his gun wavering, unsure where to point it for best effect.
BB and Tom began to comply, using slow movements, so as not to excite these two amateurs.
“You too, old man,” the first one said, seeing Chuck not moving.
“I ain’t got no gun belt,” he replied. Put off-guard by Chuck’s frail, unthreatening looks, they were further distracted by his truculent tone, and failed to see his lightning swift movements. Four gunshots cracked, and the two gunmen adopted surprised looks, as two small holes appeared in their chests, down feathers puffing out of their coats like a pillow split. Slowly, they collapsed and lay still on the ground. Calmly, Chuck walked over to them and delivered coups de grâce to their heads. “Just in case,” he mumbled.
Turning around, he looked down at his two companions, who had hit the deck when the shooting started, and were still there.
“What are you guys doing lyin’ around. We’ve got places to go, ain’t we?” he said, smiling as he helped them to their feet. “You have a lot to learn about survival, but at least your reflexes are good, I can work with that. I don’t like killing, never have, but I wasn’t about to negotiate with them cheeky bastards. You should think about adopting the same attitude. Hereon in, anyone that ain’t with you is against you.”
The End …
Table of Contents
Copyright
Chapter 1 Commuting - 2nd January, 2013
Chapter 2 Realisation
Chapter 3 Who Knew Libraries Were Such a Health Hazard?
Chapter 4 So, How Do We Get Out of Here?
Chapter 5 The Longest Half Mile - Ever!
Chapter 6 Stand By Me
Chapter 7 Following the Old Iron Highway
Chapter 8 The Battle Begins
Chapter 9 Nature Calls
Chapter 10 Back on the Front Line
Chapter 11 Gatwick Airport - The Road From Hell?
Chapter 12 The Decision to Leave is Easier Than You Think
Chapter 13 Would the Last One Out Please Turn Out the Lights?
Chapter 14 Zombies on a Plane (Yeah, I know, but what else could it be called?)
Chapter 15 Meanwhile, Back in the USA
Chapter 16 Hunkering Down
Chapter 17 Doing the Mid-Atlantic Zombie Shuffle
Chapter 18 What Would Rick Do?
Chapter 19 Clearing the Decks
Chapter 20 Zombie USAF
Chapter 21 The Battle for Denver International Airport
Chapter 22 Destination Denver
Chapter 23 Any Landing You Can Walk Away From is a Good Landing
Chapter 24 Consolidation on the Ground
Chapter 25 Castle Rock
Chapter 26 NORAD, the Lunatics Have Taken Over the Asylum
Epilogue Boulder, Colorado
The Common Cold (Book 1): A Zombie Chronicle Page 26