Surviving The Zombie Apocalypse (Book 1): Sanctuary

by Scott, Joshua Jared

The shots also attracted a couple of zombies. I handed her the other clip, which was full, and told her to kill them.

  “Why don’t you do it Jacob?” she countered. “You’re the better shot.”

  “I want to see you drop a zombie. I need to know you can do it. You need to know this as well Briana.”

  She swallowed. “I guess so.”

  “Not people. Don’t think of them as people or anything close. They’re not even like animals. They’re monsters.” This was the same rationalization I used to make my own actions easier to accept. It was a worthwhile psychological trick.

  “I know this Jacob.” Her voice was quiet and uncertain.

  “But let them get close enough that you’re sure of the shot. Then put a bullet in the head of the nearest one first. Don’t let them get too close though. You don’t want the blood splashing on you.”

  At that point in time we had no idea if direct contact with zombie blood would cause an infection, or if it took an actual bite. We thought bites only since we hadn’t heard anything to the contrary, but it was only prudent to be cautious.

  “You have your gun too, right?”

  I held up my pistol and then took a look around in all directions. There was nothing in sight save the two of us and the zombies which were now about forty yards away.

  “I got it, if you miss.”

  “I just want to be sure.” She was shifting her weight and shuffling both feet anxiously.

  “Calm down Briana. It’ll be okay. Just aim and gently pull the trigger.”

  “I think I’m going to puke after this.”

  “Maybe. I came close when I killed those trying to get the kids up on the truck. It’s okay if you do.”

  Briana pulled at her hair for just a second with her left hand, then stopped and placed it over her right, holding the gun in a solid two-hand grip.

  “Take aim like I showed you.”

  She shifted, and the barrel rose slightly.

  “Now Briana.”

  Nothing happened.

  “They’re getting too close. Shoot them now!”

  She pulled the trigger and struck the zombie in the neck. It staggered back a step and raised its arms, grasping the air as it focused on her.

  “The head Briana.”

  I pointed my own gun at the thing, but she fired again, hitting it properly this time. The zombie crumpled to the ground.

  “I did it,” she gasped.

  “The other one.”

  “Oh, yeah.”

  I watched as she blushed – it was charming – before dealing with the second zombie.

  “I guess we can go now.”

  The deed done. Briana appeared thoughtful but otherwise seemed okay.

  “Actually, I want to take a look at them.” I glanced around. We were still alone. “Now’s a good time for it.”

  “Whatever for?” She hurried up beside me as I crouched by the first body. “Careful.”

  “They’re dead dead, no movement at all. We’re safe enough.”

  Neither of us had ever seen a zombie that wasn’t moving, ever. Even so, she was right about being cautious. I didn’t touch the bodies, and I stayed a few feet back as I examined them. No sign of major decay. No effect from being in the sun so long. The damn things were durable.

  “I wonder if they’ll rot now that they’ve been put down. What do you think?”

  “I don’t know,” she admitted. “I hope so. I don’t want to think about tons of bodies lying out here year after year never going away.”

  “Well, whatever makes them move and attack ends when the brain is destroyed. Maybe what makes them not fall apart like a walking corpse should…” I shook my head. “That statement is so wrong.”

  She nodded her agreement.

  “Anyway, maybe what makes them last also ends when the brain’s destroyed. We could stay here and see.”

  The look on her face clearly showed displeasure at that thought.

  “Or not,” I amended.

  “We’re bound to find out sooner or later,” she countered. “We’ll definitely know after we settle down someplace.”

  “True enough.”

  * * *

  That was the first break of the day. The second was for a subsequent shooting lesson and to refuel the Jeep. I showed Briana how to use my rifle and shotgun – both were simple weapons, easy to operate and understand – and I managed to bag a rabbit with the .22. You gotta love a good scope.

  Happy for the chance to extend the break – the drive really was rough with the constant bouncing as we went on and off the road – we pulled out a pot, and Briana started a fire. While gutting the rabbit, I briefly recalled why I hated cleaning animals and hadn’t done so since Boy Scouts a couple decades earlier. The entire process was nasty. Still, I completed it in fairly quick order and added the meat, properly diced, to the onions and potatoes, the last of our non-canned vegetables, that Briana had already chopped up. No more fresh fruit. No more fresh veggies. It was distressing.

  “Want the skin for anything?”

  She made a face. “It’s kinda gross.”

  “It won’t be after I scrape off the fat and let it dry out.”

  Properly curing hides is more difficult than that, but I was well acquainted with the details. My grandfather had run a trap line way back when, and I had some of his old books that explained how to catch, skin, and prepare animal hides. I always found the process fascinating and read them repeatedly when I was younger. One of these was actually packed in the back of the Jeep with my family mementos.

  “Give it a go,” she said, after a moment.

  My attempt turned out to be mostly successful, but with no idea what to do with the skin, we ended up sticking it in a box. The stew, however, turned out to be pretty good, if somewhat watery. Our little picnic was interrupted only once by zombies, but we were nearly finished at that point, so we just packed up and left before they reached us. No sense in wasting the ammunition.

  * * *

  It was late on the eleventh day when we finally turned north on US-83. This road was to take us up through Kansas and into Nebraska, and despite being a more significant thoroughfare, it was clearer than the back roads had been. Go figure. But with the sun going down, we didn’t make it very far, stopping after a few miles when we spotted a mobile home on a slight rise, well off the highway. I couldn’t see an opening in the barbed wire that ran along the road, so I cut it and we drove up to take a look.

  No one was in sight, people or zombies, so we parked behind the trailer. There was a rain barrel in one corner. It was full, and the water looked somewhat fresh, not that I was going to risk drinking any. There was also a kid’s bicycle lying in the dirt and some toys scattered about.

  “Gun ready Briana. If zombies come out, let them get in the open before shooting. No reason to splatter the inside of the place.”

  “Got it.”

  With my own pistol gripped tightly, I opened the door and hopped back. Nothing happened.

  “Anyone inside?” I called. “Living or otherwise?”

  “Anything?” asked Briana. She was fifteen feet behind me and several to the side.

  “Don’t think so. I’m going to take a look.”

  “Be careful, very careful. It’s pretty dark in there.”

  Her concern was obvious, and I shared it. I didn’t relish the idea of searching a house, even a tiny mobile home, when one of those things might be lurking about, but zombies always went toward any human they noticed. If there’d been one in there, it should have shown itself by now. Should have, definitely should have, but not must have. Keeping my gun handy, I stepped through the door into the kitchen. It was messy, with plates covered in rotting food and plenty of roaches. Nothing else.

  “This room is clear,” I said, “and filthy. Come on inside.”

  “Disgusting.”

  “That it is. Close the door and keep an eye out while I check this way.”

  I went through the living room. The fr
ont door was locked, and the window blinds pulled. The bedroom was likewise empty. Going back through the kitchen, I checked the other bedroom and the bathroom. Nothing at all.

  “There was definitely a kid here. Lots of toys and games in the one bedroom. Whole bunch of plastic guns and swords. Probably loved playing pretend war.”

  “Think he’s okay?”

  “Would be nice. Looks like they left a while back. No car. No blood. No bodies. Maybe they made it somewhere safe.” I looked around. “This place is clearly abandoned, so I’m not going to feel bad about taking anything useful. Let me just check outside real fast, then we can see what’s here.”

  I quickly verified the Jeep was okay and that there was nothing in sight in any direction. Everything seemed quiet. Good enough. We still had a half hour or so of semi decent light. Best to use it.

  “I really don’t feel good about stealing from these people,” said Briana.

  “It’s not stealing. It’s looting.”

  “That is not a valid distinction.”

  I smiled. “Consider it appropriation then. They left, and there’s nothing to indicate the owners are coming back.”

  “Yeah, but still.”

  “Pretend the food we’re about to take is just a song you’re pulling off the Internet.”

  “I don’t do that sort of thing,” retorted Briana. She pulled out some cans of creamed corn and red beets and set them on the counter.

  “Really?”

  “No, although I might have copied some from friends’ computers.”

  “That’s good. Secondary piracy is so much more ethical.”

  “Don’t be obnoxious.” She was grinning as well.

  With that matter settled, we moved on to the bedrooms but found nothing of value. The living room was likewise devoid of anything we could use. There was enough food to make the stop worthwhile however. In addition to the canned vegetables already mentioned, we found some of soup and a whole lot of spices, all of which we packed up. We’d sort through them later when there was more time.

  “Oh, look,” said Briana, “even more beans, stashed under the sink. Can’t have enough of those. Found some sunglasses on top the fridge as well. They look new.”

  “Might be useful. Keep them if you want.”

  “What I really want is a bath.” She hit the faucet, but nothing came out. “No water.”

  “There was that rain barrel. It was full and warm, has to be with the temp outside. It’s probably clean enough for a sponge bath. You can go first.”

  Hauling in bucket after bucket, I waited, in the dark, while Briana took her time getting washed up by lantern light. There wasn’t much water left by the time my turn came, and I didn’t like being exposed, even in a tiny bathroom with the door locked. As a result, I took a whole lot less time than Briana, but it did feel good to get the dirt and stink off.

  The night was spent in the Jeep. With only the two of us we didn’t feel safe sleeping in the mobile home, nor did we particularly want to spend any additional time with the thirty or forty thousand roaches that had taken up residence. But, before closing our eyes, Briana and I watched a movie on my laptop. That was becoming something of a nightly ritual, and it helped take our minds off certain things.

  * * *

  Briana insisted on driving the next day. I wasn’t particularly keen with the idea – she was a teenager, and I remembered how I drove when I was in the same dreadful age range – but I didn’t have any valid grounds to argue. Also, it would be nice to be able to close my eyes occasionally without worrying about crashing, so after a brief reminder about not hitting holes or going off road too fast – she rolled her eyes at me the entire time – I relinquished the driver’s seat.

  Overall, she did a good job. Briana didn’t hurt my Jeep and didn’t hit anything. I was forced to request she stop a few times so we could siphon gas and refill the tank before it dropped below half empty. Her opinion was that we could go further, but I was adamant about not getting stuck somewhere on foot. Being unable to drive away from danger was an upsetting concept and a situation best avoided.

  And, much like Briana, I spent the majority of my time in the passenger seat going through the road atlas, trying to calculate how long until we reached the Nebraska National Forest. That was our goal, finally decided on. It was a planned forest, having been planted by the government decades ago as part of an experiment to boost lumber production on the plains. The trees took, so you had the grasslands with their cattle and buffalo – those were bound to get loose and multiply – along with some prime agricultural land right next to the forest itself. There was lumber, food, everything we would need. Best of all, there were no major cities anywhere for hundreds of miles, and the few towns in the region were widely scattered.

  There should be tons of corn, wheat, and other crops ready for harvest in a few months. With a little work we would be able to store up plenty for winter. The next few years should be just as good. With the plants everywhere, quite a few would sprout naturally next spring, and so on for years to come. It would, of course, be far more efficient and productive to set up a real farm, but even if events prevented that, we should still be able to gather a tremendous amount of food for the foreseeable future.

  In addition to the beef, bison, and other farm animals, there would also be plenty of game in the area. There were mountain goats and sheep north in the Black Hills. Those would expand south, maybe. I wasn’t sure actually, but getting to them was easy enough. There were pronghorns, bears, deer, elk, and a wide assortment of other tasty things in the Wyoming and Montana region, and those I knew would soon spread out, now that humanity wasn’t around to cull their numbers. And, as always, there would be no shortage of rabbits.

  * * *

  We woke the following morning to find a group of zombies uncomfortably close to the Jeep. It was the thirteenth day of the apocalypse, so that was somehow darkly appropriate.

  “Jacob.”

  “What is it?” I mumbled.

  “Get up and look.” Briana shook my shoulder, then again, harder.

  “What?” I opened my eyes and gazed about blearily. “Oh.”

  The damn things were shambling about the field where we’d parked. It appeared to have been corn originally, but a fire had gone through a few days earlier leaving just blackened ground. We had a good view of the area though, so we stopped for the night, a few miles outside of Garden City, Kansas.

  “Hey,” she said, pointing, “there are some cows too.”

  I looked to the side. Sure enough, there were a half dozen rooting around in the ashes looking for something to eat.

  “The zombies are pretty far off, so I’m taking a potty break.”

  “Potty break?” asked Briana. “Are we regressing or something?”

  “Fine. I am going to urinate on the ground before my bladder explodes, or take a piss if you like the term more.”

  She smirked as I got out of the Jeep and stretched, taking a quick survey of the area to make sure it was safe before unzipping. The dead didn’t seem to notice me, even though they were less than a mile away, a half mile maybe.

  Briana joined me a moment later. “Keep watch, and turn around.”

  With a dramatic sigh – I couldn’t help myself – I did as she requested. I also made a comment regarding the superiority of men when it came to taking a leak without having to squat. A moment later I was hit in the back with a clod of dirt.

  “They still far off?”

  “Yeah,” I said. “They’re moving a bit to the side, not really coming closer. Want to eat something before we get started? I bet revving the engine gets their attention, so if you want a short break without interruption we should do it now.”

  “They do seem to hear better than they see,” agreed Briana.

  We ate a dull breakfast consisting of beans – we really did have a lot of those – and some canned tuna. It could have been better, and I decided to try for another rabbit later that day. Strange how quickly
I was moving into hunting mode after spending my life avoiding the activity. Finishing up, we started the Jeep, and sure enough the zombies swiveled toward us. I was driving past them, heading for the road, when Briana stopped me.

  “Check out their feet.”

  “What about them?”

  “The barefoot ones.”

  I hit the brakes and carefully looked as they approached us. I waited until the last moment before touching the accelerator and leaving them behind.

  “Their feet were normal,” I said, disturbed.

  “Shouldn’t they be in tatters after walking about without shoes for two weeks? I mean, they step on hot concrete, they step on broken glass, these walked all over a burnt out field. It’s like they’re indestructible or something.”

  “Not that. They fall fast enough if shot, but maybe their skins are tougher than when they were alive or maybe they heal little things almost immediately.” Both possibilities sucked. “And why is it you’re the one to notice these things and not me?”

  “Cause I’m smarter than you are and pay more attention.” She shook her head. “Bad no matter what.”

  * * *

  We drove in silence for a few miles, until we reached Garden City, Kansas. It was large enough that I didn’t feel comfortable passing through the center of town. Fortunately, there were plenty of agricultural roads in the area, and we could easily bypass the place and pick up the highway again just north of it. However, this plan was put on the back burner when we spotted a convoy approaching. They were coming down a side road, skirting the town more closely than we’d intended, in clear view of anyone or anything who bothered to look.

  “What do you think?”

  “I think we should talk to them,” answered Briana.

  That was an awful lot of vehicles, and likely people, but she was right. I moved the Jeep to the side and angled it so we could shoot across a field if need be. Most of the cars approaching us were everyday ones and would have no chance of following. I know it was somewhat paranoid, and other than the one fruit job shooting at us back in Oklahoma we’d had no negative experiences with other survivors. Even so, I wanted to be prepared.