“Do we have to?” asked the woman.
“I don’t see any way around it.” Eric paused. “What’s your name?”
“I’m Vivien. Most people call me Viv.”
“I’m Steph.”
“Okay then. This is Jose, and I’m Eric. The two of us work together.”
“Yeah,” replied the redhead, “we figured you knew each other already.”
“Let’s get going,” suggested Jose. “I want to be gone before they get through. Don’t want to be followed again.”
Eric led the way out, guiding them down the alley. A car drove past in the distance, but it was too far away to wave down. Then they rounded a corner and saw some people entering another building.
“There!” exclaimed Eric. He grabbed Jose’s arm to help him along. “Wait for us!” he shouted.
Heads turned, and a short, fat man gestured for them to hurry. They reached the door well ahead of any zombies, and the man slammed it shut, locked it, and barred it.
“Will they get through?” asked Viv.
“Not this one,” he said confidently. “Solid steel, set deep in the brick.”
The monsters initiated a steady pounding, but it did appear to be as structurally sound as promised.
“Go upstairs,” he instructed. “Sit down and rest.”
“Thank you,” replied Steph wearily.
He smiled. “You are welcome missy. Now, up you go. My wife has first aid kit.”
“Gracias,” said Jose. His hand was throbbing, and he’d begun to feel woozy.
They went upstairs to the pair of small, one bedroom apartments. The man, his name was Julio Soprano, no connection whatsoever with the television show as he was quick to explain, owned these along with the restaurant below. He and his wife Erin lived in one. The other was used when their children came to visit. There was also a spiral staircase, which he said led to a storage room off the kitchen. The doors to that room and the restaurant itself were locked. They should be safe.
“Poor thing,” said Erin as she examined Jose’s hand. “You’re the fourth one who was bit. That includes myself.” She held up her arm. There was white gauze wrapped about the forearm. “I wasn’t hurt that bad, barely got me.”
“I’m hurting like a God dammed… Sorry, hurts bad.”
Looking around, Eric took in his new companions. There were an even dozen of them. Other than Jose, he didn’t know any. A few looked like tourists. They had the requisite digital cameras hanging from their necks.
“Oh, my.”
“What is it?” asked Jose.
“I think I might need to cauterize this.”
Eric winced, but his friend looked confused.
“What does that mean?”
“She’s going to burn the wound closed,” explained Eric.
“Hell no, she’s not!”
“Calm down Jose. We probably should. It’ll close it up and help with any infections.” He’d been thinking of normal infections at the time. None of them knew that a bite meant death, no matter what precautions were taken.
“You have bone showing,” said Julio. “That cannot be. The knuckle must come off or it will go bad. I’ve seen that before, a cousin, stupid drunken fool he was. Ended up losing his entire hand.”
The Spanish started again. It sounded more like prayers than cursing this time.
“Can’t we try to call a doctor,” asked Steph, “or a hospital, even if only to ask?”
Julio shook his head. “Phones are out. Cells too.”
Eric pulled his from a pocket and tried 911. There was no signal. “Same here.”
“All of them probably,” said Julio. “Power’s been blinking on and off too. Will go soon I think. Should do this first.”
“Yes,” agreed his wife. “We can use one of the mini torches from downstairs.” She glanced at Jose. “We use them for cooking. They will seal it up.”
“How are you going to take the knuckle off?” asked Eric. His stomach was starting to bother him.
“Butcher knife,” explained Julio. “Knife cut right through.”
“I don’t see an alternative Jose. I know it sounds awful, but we don’t have a doctor, and that looks like it’s going bad already.”
His friend was shaking.
“Anyone else have an idea?” asked Eric, looking from face to face.
The others had no clue what to do, but several agreed that it already appeared infected. It could not be left to fester.
“You two will hold him down,” said Julio, pointing at Eric and another large man. “I do the cutting. Erin do the burning. Down in the storeroom.”
“I don’t mean to cause any problems,” interrupted Steph, “but won’t he scream and bring more zombies in?”
“That’s true Julio,” agreed Erin. “The outside steps have that big steel door, but the restaurant itself has plate glass windows in the front. They could get in that way.”
“We gag him, and give a wooden spoon to bite down on,” replied her husband. “Then lots of wine to drink, much as he wants.”
Eric did not relate the exact details of how the procedure went, other than to say it was done essentially as Julio had outlined.
* * *
The next day was difficult. The power was gone, and the four who’d been bitten all had high fevers with their wounds infected and growing worse. Poor Jose, who’d been burned in an attempt to prevent this, was no better off than the others. There was no medicine other than Tylenol, which all were taking at dangerous levels, and alcohol from the restaurant.
Eric, Steph, and a young man named Mark tried to contact others using an old model police radio that belonged to Julio and Erin’s son, but with no success. After the first day they didn’t even see another living soul, just zombies. Those slowly roamed the streets, never stopping. Lacking easy access to an automobile – Julio had a car, but it was parked around the corner – their only chance of escape would be on foot, through hundreds of the things.
* * *
After three days, the infected started to die. Jose was the first. They’d realized this was coming and wasted no time in removing the body, taking it to the roof for disposal. It was disrespectful, but they couldn’t leave him inside. However, access was via a ladder and through a hatch in the ceiling, so Eric and Julio wrapped a rope about Jose’s remains in order to haul him up.
“He’s moving!” yelled Steph.
“What did she say?”
Julio shrugged and heaved again, bringing Jose and his open, gray filmed eyes into view. They almost dropped him, to the dismay of those in the apartments, but managed to keep enough control of their senses to drag him the rest of the way onto the roof. Jose immediately targeted the pair, but Julio was faster, looping his end of the rope around a vent. The zombie didn’t seem to realize there was a cord tied to its chest, just under the arms. Instead of fiddling with the knot or attempting to slip free, Jose lunged at them, over and over.
“We will have to put an end to him. He cannot remain like this, not here. We kill and throw over side.”
Eric winced.
“I am sorry. My words a bit too harsh I think.”
“Yeah, but you’re right. We have the crowbar downstairs. I’ll have someone hand it up. You okay in the meantime?”
“Yes,” said the older man, with a curt nod. “I will watch him.”
Eric walked over to the hatch. “Steph, you still there?”
“I am.” She stepped into view. “So are the others. We saw him begin to move. What happened?”
“Jose came back, one of those. I need the crowbar.”
“Oh,” she replied, eyes downcast. “Do you need anyone to come up?”
“No. Julio and I will take care of this.”
* * *
When it was done and the body dropped off the side of the building, well away from the doors, Eric and Julio sat down to speak in private.
“The others who were bit, they are dying too, probably. They may come back.”
“My wife is bitten. She is sick. She will pass soon.”
Eric nodded. “We have to move them up here fast after they die. They can’t be moved now. We’ll also need to tie their arms and legs the moment they leave us.”
“There is twine in the cabinet,” said Julio, biting back a sob. “I will do for Erin. You, the others.”
“Agreed. Let’s go down and see to them.”
* * *
The wait turned out to be a short one. All three were dead within six hours of Jose, with Erin being the last. Julio had held her hand until the end. Then, true to his word, he bound her himself.
“I’ll do it,” said Eric.
“No. She is my wife. My Erin.”
Julio Soprano waited only until the eyes opened, to be certain they were covered with that hideous gray mucus. Then he brought the heavy bar down.
“You put her over please,” he sobbed.
“Of course.”
Eric lifted her in his arms, walked the few steps to the side, and dropped her. He glanced down briefly to confirm she was atop the others, then stepped away to prevent any zombies from noticing him. They didn’t seem to know anyone was inside the building – those who had beaten on the steel door the first day had eventually been distracted and wandered off – and he wanted to keep it that way.
“I thank you, very much. I think I will go now. Yes, I will go as well.”
“What do you mean go? Where?”
“To whatever is after this.”
The man moved fast, faster than Eric would’ve thought possible considering his short legs and the hundred or so pounds of extra fat he was carrying. As a result, he was unable to intervene before Julio threw himself from the building’s roof.
“No!”
Eric slapped a hand over his mouth. Screaming like that was stupid. He did move to the edge and peer over however. There were zombies approaching, and the man was twitching. Despite hitting the concrete hard, a few feet from his wife, he had not died. Eric pulled back, not wanting to watch the end.
* * *
The sixth day was when the mistake occurred. The seven survivors had been sleeping and spending their days in the two upstairs apartments. Using a bucket to relieve themselves, they’d taken to dumping it over the side of the roof. The zombies tended to flock there, attracted by the sound or smell, but finding nothing they would soon drift away. For the most part, they stayed out of the restaurant area except to retrieve bottled water, food, or, as often as not, wine and liquor from the storeroom. The refrigerated items had all been eaten or gone rancid, but they had plenty of canned goods, mostly staples used in cooking but still enough to get by on for a long time.
Viv had descended the spiral staircase with Eric for the purpose of retrieving dinner. The storeroom was well stocked, but many of the better items were kept in the kitchen itself which had an entire wall lined with shelves. The system clearly made sense to Julio and his cooks, but it created a risk for the survivors. There were swinging doors with square glass panes in the upper center of each, separating the kitchen from the restaurant proper, and a person could look through one of these all the way to the street outside.
Grabbing several cans, Viv started back. She ducked beneath the windows, as always, but stumbled in the darkness. Falling, her full weight hit one of the doors. It swung open, and she naturally looked out toward the front of the building, right into the face of a pair of zombies. They obviously noticed her because they promptly began beating on the glass. The first crack appeared almost immediately.
“Eric!” she hissed.
“Back in the store room,” he said, grabbing her arms and pulling her upright. “Move.”
The window shattered, and the zombies entered the restaurant. More trailed in behind them.
“Lock it!” shrieked Viv.
“I’m trying. It’s jammed. I can’t!”
The door rattled.
“Up the steps!” he shouted. “Go! Go! Go!”
Pushing Viv ahead of him, Eric got them to the second story where the others were gathering, alarmed by their cries. He slammed the door shut and flipped the lock. That one worked.
“Zombies got inside,” he said, in way of an abbreviated explanation.
“How?” asked Steph.
Viv looked like she was going to cry.
“We need to barricade this,” continued Eric. “They’ll break through. Get me the hammer and nails that were in the drawer in the kitchen.”
Someone ran to comply.
“And I need some boards.”
Steph shook her head. “We don’t have anything like that.”
“What about the beds. We can use the headboards. Those are big and solid, and they might have boards under the mattresses too.”
Three of them tried to brace the door while the others hurried to tear the beds apart. They didn’t have the tools necessary to dismantle them normally, so there was a lot of pounding and kicking before they returned with the headboards. These were hammered in with far more nails than necessary, and Eric added some more to be certain. There hadn’t been any support boards under the beds, just the metal frames, but they took apart a bookcase and used its shelves and sides to completely wall up the doorway.
“Will that hold?” someone asked, once they were done.
“I think so. We should block it up more, some furniture or something, just to be safe.”
The zombies banged on that door since the restaurant was breached until the moment we rescued them, never stopping, but they couldn’t get through. The spiral staircase was narrow, allowing only a single person access at a time. Whichever zombie was in the lead had lacked the strength to batter it down.
Unfortunately, most of their supplies had been downstairs. With the apartments being tiny to begin with, and cramped, they hadn’t brought anything up beyond what they needed or wanted in the short term. In retrospect, that had been a mistake. They soon agreed to strict rationing, going down to something like five hundred calories a day and only enough water to keep them alive. Eric still marveled that they’d had the strength to get downstairs and into the pickup when we finally rescued them.
Chapter XII
The zombie uprising began in the early morning hours of Monday, August 22. We started construction on our settlement in late September. Now, I’m about to fast forward to a week before Thanksgiving. Don’t worry though. I’m not going to completely skip over two months. You will receive a summary of what happened during the interim.
The listing of days, regarding me saying the second or fifteenth day of the apocalypse for instance, is coming to an abrupt end. This system was useful at first. It provided a timeline of sorts and allowed for greater understanding of how things changed. Additionally, it was fairly easy to recall what happened when, particularly while we were traveling. However, once we were established and started to build, the days began to run together in my mind. I can provide a general order as to what occurred during this subsequent period but not much more.
The castle is complete. Hurray! We have a safe place to live. The name was selected by the children – no arguing with them – and readily adopted by everyone else. The walls are composed of an outer layer of cinderblocks. Rebar was inserted through the holes, which were then filled with concrete. As a result, these are exceptionally strong. The gap between the two layers was later packed with a mix of gravel and cement. It took a long time and a lot of work, but the wall is five feet thick as planned. Since we have so many cinderblocks lying around, we went ahead and used some to create battlements up top. These serve as a railing so no one tumbles off by accident.
There is a single, large gate, originally discovered in Chadron and carefully carted back. It’s nine feet high, twelve wide, and composed of thick iron bars. It opens in the center which helps with the weight and allows us to use a large steel crossbar to secure it. We also set an animal trailer along the wall that can be pulled in front of the opening. This is to provide an additional layer of
defense, if needed.
The residential units have been completed as well. They’re in a single row along one of the side walls and are just as small, cramped, and miserable as expected. However, each has a thick door that can be barred from the inside and a large fireplace. They’re safe, and we expect them to be warm once the weather really turns. I would like to work on something better in the upcoming years, but these are more than suitable for our current needs.
The common hall is located in the rear of the compound, directly opposite the gate. Like the houses, and everything else, the building is constructed of cinderblocks. It rises well above the perimeter wall and is the most comfortable spot in the castle, equipped with a stone floor, large windows, and several fireplaces. It’s also the place where most people spend their free time. Next to it is a small bath house. While the majority have been taking sponge baths inside their dwellings, this allows for a proper soaking.
The final quadrant of our compound holds a workshop and the storehouse, both of which remain under Larry’s personal control. A series of trucks and vans – the important ones are kept within a fenced lot just outside the castle – contain the overflow of goods and supplies. Lizzy and I have been hitting Chadron almost every day, after it was finally cleared enough to allow easy entry, and we’d been bringing things back in bulk.
Clearing Chadron was not as difficult as initially feared. However, it was a slow, grinding process. Unlike Hemingford, we couldn’t simply drive in and shoot the zombies. There were just too many of things, so we instead established a firing line in a nearby field and had some people go the edges and draw the zombies toward us. We would shoot that bunch, make certain all were down for good, and repeat. It got iffy a few times, but a series of barricades and ditches ensured the shambling menace’s approach was difficult and slow. That gave us the time we needed to do the job properly. There was only one occasion when we had to outright pull back and drive off, due to Lizzy being exceedingly effective and drawing several hundred simultaneously.
Surviving The Zombie Apocalypse (Book 1): Sanctuary Page 35