“The Indians did it, and we’ve always had farms.”
“They spent more time hunting than farming, and while I’m no historian, I’m pretty sure this was a sparsely populated area even for the natives, at least till the government began dumping tribe after tribe here. And those were provided for, sort of, in an inefficient, screwing them over sort of way.”
“We have a Choctaw in our town. Was visiting an in-law when the change happened. He used to work in one of their casinos, not all that useful really. Tries hard enough.”
“To be expected. We are, were, a post-industrialized society, service and financial based economy. What, half a percent of the population was involved in agriculture? Not much more in manufacturing, and that tended to be high tech assembly lines, not traditional crafting.”
The skill question was troubling. I couldn’t fix a car, but that was an ability plenty of survivors would have. I could do some basic wiring and plumbing, but that wasn’t hard either. I could not establish and work a farm, not properly. I did not know what time of year to plant. I did not know what to do if they got diseased. I did not know how to harvest or process grains. I could bake bread, but I didn’t have the faintest idea where yeast came from or how to make it. Likewise, I knew nothing of engineering or building. When it came to long term survival, I knew what talents I needed, and I was well aware that I was lacking in these, in an extreme way. Briana was no better, possibly worse. She could run circles around me when it came to tweeting and playing with Facebook, neither of which I ever cared for, but on the practical front she was even less knowledgeable.
“True enough,” he agreed.
“You don’t have any real farmers.” It was not a question. He’d admitted this the day before. “No doctors or nurses either.”
“We have plenty of books,” he countered.
I nodded. I had found some that looked useful in the house Briana and I were using. They were already packed up in the Jeep. I won’t even pretend to feel bad about taking them. We were told the house was ours to use so it was likely not stealing, in a technical sense, and the previous owner was dead with no clear heirs anyway. I really wanted to loot a library. Maybe we would come across one some time. It was another thing to add to the list.
“I think you would be able to get going if the zombies just vanished.”
“That doesn’t look like it’ll happen anytime soon,” observed Edwin dryly.
“No, it doesn’t. So, while you’re trying to get things organized more and more keep coming. You’re having to kill them every day as it is, and there’s no end in sight. Plus, you have major cities only a few hours away by car. Eventually the zombies there will filter out and start heading down the highways. It’s going to keep getting worse, not better. Even if you fortify properly and walled in the houses…”
Their idea of what constituted safety was different from mine. The separate houses were fine if there was a wall about them creating a secure compound. It was something they should have done to start with, but it was actually way down their list. By the time they got around to it, it might be too late.
“…you would still get surrounded at some point. There are a million of those things in Oklahoma City, thousands more nearby already. How could you tend any farms you set up if you’re under siege? I don’t see it happening. You’re just too close to the population centers, and the climate is too hot and dry. Face it, this is not a good place to be.”
“It’s home.”
“You can always leave home and go somewhere else. Briana and I did. My great grandparents, all eight of them, left home to move to the United States way back when. People do it all the time. But, since you’re going to stay, let me wish you the best of luck.”
He sighed. “Thanks, and I do mean that. So, when you leaving us?”
“Tomorrow morning. We decided last night. We hung around a bit to help out and… Well, who knows when we’ll next get the chance to talk to someone, particularly somebody decent.”
“We certainly appreciate the assistance, and the company. I’ll have a little present for you before you turn in tonight, in case I don’t see you in the morning when you leave.”
“Another pie would be nice,” I suggested, hopefully.
“Those are few and far between.” He grinned broadly. “Don’t worry, we’ll set you up. I do want you to tell others you meet where we are. Being off the main roads, we haven’t seen too many folk, but I would like to get more here if possible. Who knows, maybe you’ll find other, larger groups out there. If they know about us, we might get a network set up.”
“That’s good,” I replied, “provided they’re like you all. Having a group of escaped cons, for instance, know about this town wouldn’t be so beneficial.”
He grew a tad graver. “I worry about that sort of thing too, but the more hands we have, the more guns, the better our chances are of keeping the zombies away, of keeping anything bad away.”
* * *
“So,” asked Briana, “what’s in the box?”
“Curious?”
“Of course.”
We were sitting in the living room of the house we’d been using, hot and sticky as usual, with only a small electric lantern to see by.
“Well, are you going to open it or not? I want to know what Edwin gave us.”
“Why don’t you do it Briana.”
She giggled merrily and pulled out her pocket knife so she could cut the string holding it closed.
“And we have…” She withdrew the first item. “…a dress. What do you think?”
She stood up and held the summer dress to her chest. It was red with large white polka dots.
“Not at all appropriate for our trip, but quite lovely. Hopefully you’ll get some use out of it later.”
“I fully intend to,” replied Briana, playful determination in her voice.
We’d managed to get her more properly equipped in the clothing and women’s personal stuff department after arriving in town. With so many dead, there was no shortage of these items, and she quickly discarded pretty much everything of mine she had appropriated in favor of replacements. Personally, I didn’t think then, nor do I think now, that she needs to be carting around quite so much in the way of apparel, but on this matter, and with so many others, my opinion is completely disregarded.
Most of what she took was durable and practical, jeans and heavy long sleeve shirts, along with a better fitting denim jacket for when we’re near zombies and have to worry about being bitten, and some casual stuff for times when we were in a place of relative safety. Briana also has several bathing suits. Not sure when she’ll make use of those, but they take up no real space. And yes, I really would like to see her in one.
“A gun,” she continued. “I’ll take that too.”
“Let me see.”
She handed it over, and I gave it a quick examination. Edwin, or one of his people, had likely overheard some of our conversations regarding weapons. It was a 9mm with two clips, each holding sixteen rounds.
“Is there any ammunition?”
“Six... Seven boxes, fifty in each.”
“It’s yours Briana. You can stick the .38 under the passenger seat in the Jeep or in the door slot like I keep my extra.”
That solved the lingering gun issue. I carried my .40 caliber. Briana carried the 9mm. I had my .45 as a spare. She had the .38 revolver. We were good on pistols. There was also my old double barrel shotgun, which was ideal for hunting birds or small game, and the .22 rifle with scope, also well suited for shooting little things. I had plenty of ammo for each, with several thousand rounds for the .22.
“There’s some bullets for you too. That .40 caliber you like so much.”
I took the boxes. It more than made up for what I had used in that initial fight when the kids were stuck atop the UPS truck. Edwin had been generous. He was, without a doubt, a good man.
“And,” continued Briana, “we have a flashlight, still in the original packaging
, along with a whole bunch of batteries for it. Those are always useful. Some canned goods, beans, beans, beans, more beans.”
“Lots of protein in beans,” I pointed out, “very nutritious and practical.”
She snorted. “Another can of beans, string beans this time. Ah! Some packets of Jell-O. Might be good when it gets cold enough to make without a fridge. A five pound bag of whole wheat spaghetti and another of brown rice.”
“Good staples again.”
“No spaghetti sauce, but they did give us some packets of seeds including tomatoes.”
I laughed. “We can make our own next year, if we get to plant those somewhere. Don’t worry, the spaghetti won’t go bad in the meantime.”
“Maybe we can just find some canned sauce somewhere on the way. Thread and needles. Might be useful. A… Oh. My. God.”
I leaned forward. “What is it?”
“Edwin has a very dirty mind.”
“Edwin? Really? What did he put in there?”
Briana held up a book and then tossed it over to me. With my excellent reflexes, I almost managed to get my hands on it before it struck me in the chest. I did succeed in getting a grip before it hit the floor.
“The Deviant’s Kama Sutra.” I had not expected this.
“I think Edwin has the wrong idea about us,” said Briana.
I opened the book and flipped through it, lots of pictures and illustrations. I’d never read the original Kama Sutra, but I don’t think it was quite as graphic as this version.
“Think you could do this?” I held it up for her to see.
“I don’t think anyone can do that. In fact, I’m thinking that picture was computer generated.”
“Well,” I admitted, “she does seem to be twisted about in a way the body isn’t supposed to bend. Could be worse.”
“And how’s that?”
“Edwin could have given us Porn of the Dead.”
“Porn of the… What?”
You had to love the expression on her face. Priceless.
“Came out a few years ago,” I explained. “Made the news for being so disgusting. It’s an adult movie cashing in on the zombie craze. People and zombies.”
“That’s just icky.”
I closed the book and set it down on the table. “Yeah, pretty much anything zombie related is bad, now that we know they’re real.”
“No, Jacob,” she reiterated, “that’s disgusting regardless. You don’t have a copy, do you?”
“Can’t help you there Briana, but if I come across one, I’ll be sure to grab it.”
The flashlight came flying at me, and again my sharp reflexes almost had me out of the way before I was pegged in the forehead. I really need to work on my hand-eye coordination.
“Anything else in the box?” I asked, a little annoyed at her violent, though playful response.
She smirked and resumed pulling things out. “Some packets of seasoning and sardines. Yuck.”
“I like those.”
Briana shoved the tins in my direction. “Don’t eat them before bed. I don’t want to be smelling fish all night.”
“I’ll just stick them in the Jeep with our other supplies.”
We had a good stock of food, enough for a few months if we were very careful. In addition to what we’d taken from my pantry, we had also been given rations over the past few days, most of which we just stored. Edwin’s folks were eating far more than was warranted. He should be stricter, at least in regards to the canned goods that would otherwise last a few years.
“I’m going to miss the people here,” said Briana.
“Some of them are quite nice.”
“Lots of young guys as well. There are two who just came in.”
I frowned. “Edwin told me there were three of them. Something happen?”
“No, the tall one’s gay, so he doesn’t count.”
“And he told you this?”
She pulled off her jeans and slid on the shorts she liked to sleep in.
“Not turning away? Shame on you Jacob.”
“There’s a table in the way. I can’t see anything from my position, and I’m too tired to lean to the side no matter how good your legs look.”
“Well, maybe later I’ll just change in front of you so you don’t have to expend any energy peeping at me.”
“Teasing again.”
“That’s because I know you won’t try to do anything bad.” She grew more somber. “The college guys said they’d seen some things around the time they were running from the city.”
“I heard some of that from Edwin. He mentioned gangs. Didn’t sound good.”
“They told me about one of their neighbors who was grabbed by two men and pulled into a car. It drove off before they could do anything, supposedly.”
“That’ll be happening a lot.” I had a low opinion of rapists and favored a policy of punishment that involved days with sharp knives and eventual crucifixion, maybe utilizing fire or perhaps some insects, the sort with stingers.
“I was worried about you doing something at first,” admitted Briana. “Not by force,” she added a second later. “You never tried to touch me when we were lying in bed at your house.”
“More along the put out or get out variety,” I offered.
“Yeah, more like that.”
“I’m sure that’s every bit as common, if not more so. We’ll run into it eventually Briana, and being a hotty…” She smiled at that. “…you need to keep your gun handy. Someone threatens you, shoot him. Remember, stomach shots can cause a very slow, painful death. I won’t hold it against you either.”
“This is getting depressing, and after I got so excited at receiving a new dress and pornography.”
“Sorry about that. We should turn in anyway. You can stay up and read through the book if you want. Might help with any stress.”
“Actually, know what would help with that?”
“What?”
“A backrub.”
“Am I going to get one in return?” I was every bit as sore as Briana, probably more so given the physical labor I’d been doing and my age.
“Maybe.”
I shook my head. “Not good enough. I want a guarantee, an iron clad promise.”
“Okay, you have it, but I get mine first.”
Of course, Briana fell asleep in less than ten minutes – so much for my turn – but that was okay. I stayed up only little while longer myself, thinking about the wisdom of leaving Edwin’s band. I was correct in my assessment of the situation. Briana agreed with me. We were doing the right thing, or so I hoped.
Interlude – Laura’s Story
This tale belongs to Laura, a resident of Anadarko, Oklahoma, who shared the following with Briana and myself during our short stay there. She had begun the zombie apocalypse in the typical manner, namely she woke that morning with absolutely no clue as to what was happening. Climbing out of bed, Laura took a shower, got dressed, and made herself breakfast. She never turned on the television or radio, nor did she check her voicemail or email. The woman simply got ready and went to work, the same as always.
Humming to herself, and paying no attention to her surroundings, Laura made it four, possibly even five steps beyond her front door before she was assaulted.
“What!” Laura’s mind frantically tried to make sense of what was happening as clammy hands wrapped themselves awkwardly about her torso. “Off of me!”
She attempted to pull free but only managed to twist to the side. Still, it was enough to get a good look at her attacker. The man was large, eight inches taller than she and powerfully built. He was also naked. Disturbing as that was, it was his mouth that was the focus of her attention. Opening and closing rapidly, the teeth slamming together, it swung toward her face. Somehow, Laura managed to get her hands up in time, grasping him by the throat, trying to keep him back.
“Help me!” she shrieked. There was no response. “Please, someone help!” This couldn’t be happening, not in broa
d daylight.
Laura continued to struggle, striving to keep those jaws away, but he was much stronger. Then her desperate squirming placed her into a position where she could press a small foot against his belly. With a grunt, Laura pushed, and her attacker lost his grip and tumbled back, falling against the asphalt. He rose with no apparent ill effects, but Laura was faster. She lurched to her feet and darted off.
Her first thought was to get inside, but the man was between her and the apartment building. Then a woman staggered into view. She was clad in a worn nightshirt, and her throat had been ripped open. Blood was still dripping from the wound. As with the man, her eyes were glazed over, and, exactly like him, she shambled straight toward Laura. Not yet understanding what was happening, Laura decided it was best to run, and she did so, hurrying past her parked car – she had lost her keys in the melee – and across the street.
Almost immediately, she felt a stabbing pain in her side and had to slow her pace. Laura was short, very overweight, and had a tendency to avoid exercise with an almost religious fervor. Now she found herself gasping, forced to pause and put both hands on her knees.
“Down!”
Laura instinctively obeyed the command and ducked. A loud blast sounded, and the woman trailing her tumbled to the ground, her chest torn apart. Dreadful as the injury was, it did nothing to stop her. The thing got up once more, portions of its insides leaking out, and continued moving forward.
“Woman! Get over here!”
Laura whipped her head about and hurried over to the man, panting heavily. He pulled her behind him and fired a second shot, again catching the zombie in the torso. The damage was greater, and Laura saw the spinal column shatter. The monster fell, and its legs stopped moving. Again, this did nothing to eliminate the determination to reach Laura. Long arms pulled at the pavement, dragging the body forward.
“What does it take?” He slid the action, ejecting the spent shell. The third shot was to the head. There was no further movement. “About damn time.”
“Behind you!” screamed Laura.
Surviving The Zombie Apocalypse (Book 1): Sanctuary Page 7