Caleb switched on his headlights as the Humvee bounced up the rough, steep, rocky switchbacks. The trio bounced around inside uncontrollably as the machine pushed its way uphill.
The next corner approached and Caleb slowed down to navigate the turn. As he spun around the curve to go farther uphill the front left tire blew outward, as a result of a sharp sandstone fragment. He cursed and gripped the wheel as the rig pulled to the left.
To add to his situation six feeders suddenly appeared in his headlight beams as they stumbled into the road, emerging from the dense forest. Caleb gunned the accelerator in an effort to clear past them, but the flat tire hindered his movement. By this point most of the rubber had disappeared and only metal rim made contact with the road.
The mangled feeders were ground to mush under the wavering Humvee and slowed Caleb down even further. As he struggled to gain traction the vehicle slipped off to the left side of the road and teetered on the brink. Caleb struggled to stay upright but it was no use. As two more feeders stumbled into view, their combined weight against the Humvee flipped it over the steep bank.
“Hold on!” Caleb shouted as he gripped the wheel until his knuckles were white.
Jesse wrapped the blanket around Katelyn’s head and held her tight as the Humvee flipped several rotations down the steep bank before the camouflaged vehicle finally came to a stop against a stout elm tree.
Caleb groaned and wiped a streak of blood from his forehead. “Are you two all right back there?” he slurred, struggling to regain his senses.
“I think so,” Katelyn whimpered. “Just some cuts and bruises.”
Jesse was already in gear, smashing out the window with his rifle butt. “Those feeders are coming down here!” he cried, as he slithered out and proceeded to help Katelyn out of the wreckage.
“Caleb, do you need help?” Katelyn asked, after Jesse helped her out the window.
“I can’t feel my left arm, and I can’t reach around to smash the window.” He moaned again and clutched his rifle with his right arm.
Jesse ducked back through the window and pulled out his M4 as Katelyn shouted, “They’re near the front! Jesse!”
Jesse spun around and aimed the rifle towards the feeder’s head. In an instant he lined up his sights and gently squeezed the trigger.
Dang it Jesse thought when a round wasn’t expended. He glanced down and realized he’d left the safety on. In that split second the feeder was upon him. Jesse was knocked backwards and tumbled down the hillside, losing his rifle in the darkness.
“Jesse!” Katelyn screamed. “Jesse!”
Jesse slammed to a stop against a fallen tree and groped around in the night for anything to use as a weapon. He desperately gripped at a rock stuck in the ground near his ankle. As the feeder lunged for his arm Jesse struck it a blow to the jaw, knocking it backwards. The move gained him a few valuable seconds and he used his fingernails to pry the rock from the hard soil.
The feeder lunged again, rotten juices dripping out of its gaping jaws as it tried to latch onto Jesse’s neck.
“Go to hell!” Jesse cried and flung his full body weight against the feeder, pushing it to the ground. He clutched the rock in both hands and used every ounce of strength in his body to lift it over his head. Swinging with the force of a sledgehammer he bashed the rock into the feeder’s head with enough force to fracture the skull.
Again and again he swung the rock, shattering bone with each blow. As Jesse dealt the final swing the head split open, spewing cranial matter in all directions.
Jesse dropped the rock as two shots rang out above him. In the darkness he could see a muzzle flash, and hear Katelyn cry out. Dark silhouettes mulled about in the trees and he stumbled to his feet.
As he struggled to his feet a searing pain washed over his body and he called out to Caleb and Katelyn. “Talk to me! What’s going on up there?” He clutched his head in agony and took two steps upward.
A sudden shower of pebbles alerted him to the presence of somebody running downhill towards him. “Jesse is that you?” Caleb’s voice boomed out through the night.
“Yes!”
“Run down towards the river! Now!”
“Is Katelyn…?”
“I’m alright, Jesse. Just go!” Katelyn’s voice came out of the blackness.
Jesse tripped and stumbled his way down the slope. Bark and stone tore skin from his hands and arms. Twice, thick branches caught him in the side of the jaw and caused him to cry out. Over the sound of his heavy breathing he could hear cries of hunger coming down from the hill above him as what he guessed was a large group of feeders pursued them.
When Jesse neared the riverbank he tripped on an exposed tree root and fell face first into the murky water. As he struggled to the surface he was just in time to see the shadowy figures of Caleb and Katelyn dive in next to him. Through the darkness he saw a small group of feeders stop at the water’s edge and moan and claw in their direction.
The trio stood motionless in the chest deep water and watched the shore to see if their pursuers would follow. When they were satisfied of their temporary safety Katelyn leapt into Jesse’s arms and hugged and kissed him.
“How are you, Caleb?” Jesse asked.
“I think I broke my left arm, but other than that I’m okay,” Caleb returned, already wading downriver to escape the monstrous scene behind him. “Let’s hurry up and find a safe place to get out of this river before we get hypothermic.”
The feeder cries grew fainter as the group slowly picked the
ir way through the river, tripping on rocks, logs, and getting stuck in sediment. Half an hour later, as they rounded a large chunk of rock Caleb spotted a small narrow beach and pointed towards it.
“I reckon we’ll get out here and hole up for a minute.”
Jesse stumbled onto the sand and instantly ripped his shirt off in an attempt to wring out some of the water. He hung the wet article of clothing around his neck and turned to Caleb.
“You got any ideas on how to get out of this mess?”
Caleb shook his head and gazed at the ground with a look of defeat and hopelessness in his eyes. “I don’t know, boss. Between that cold water and my arm I’m not feeling too hot at the moment.”
“Listen!” Katelyn exclaimed, cupping her hand to her ear. She strained to hear over the sound of the wind whistling through the trees.
“Are those voices?” Jesse asked. “I’m not sure if I’m hearing things.”
Katelyn picked up a branch and motioned to Jesse and Caleb. “I guess this is our only weapon now.” She cautiously approached the tree line, and stepped in.
The forest quickly swallowed them up as they picked their way through the dense foliage, occasionally picking up traces of the voices as they drifted on the wind. They stumbled onward with no light and the darkness coupled with their condition began to wear on their senses. Every startled bird cry in the night, and each crackling of a twig sent their nerves on edge.
After what seemed like an eternity Jesse stopped and pointed faintly towards a small flickering light about twenty yards away. “Camp fire?” he asked.
“Hah, that’s too small. And I’m sure we would have smelled smoke,” Caleb replied. “My guess is lantern.”
Katelyn took a step forward and froze as a dry branch snapped under her foot. She hardly dared to breathe and she gripped her make-shift club tightly. Her heart beat wildly out of control as her eyes strained to take in as much light as possible.
“I don’t hear those voices anymore,” she finally announced after a full minute of silence. “Maybe…”
A piercing scream from hell cut through the forest as a group of five feeders suddenly emerged from the darkness. Their gaping jaws let lose cries that only Satan could love as they fell upon the startled group.
Katelyn swung her club in a futile attempt to stave them off but it was no use. They were too powerful for the weary survivors, and Katelyn was quickly knocked to the ground. Jesse could do
little to help except shout words of encouragement as he battled his own attackers.
Katelyn screamed like she had never screamed before in her life. One of the feeders fell upon her and moved towards her throat. It was what used to be a young man dressed in hiking clothes. He wore a tattered red baseball cap, checkered red and blue button up shirt, and a pair of cargo pants.
Tears streamed forth from her eyes and she realized this might be the end of her life. She was simply too fatigued from her past ordeals to fight. Little by little her strength drained away and her struggling grew weaker. Inch by inch the feeder’s jaws came closer to her neck. She could feel the foul stench in her face, and the putrid rotten juices dripping onto her nose.
Just when she had completely given up hope the loud crack of a .45 handgun rang out through the forest and the feeder on top of Katelyn snapped to one side as the skull erupted in a red spray. Five more shots rang out in succession and the cries of the feeders ceased.
A man approached Katelyn and helped her to her feet. “Are you alright, Miss?” The man had a short, disheveled beard clinging to his jawline and compassion was etched into his face. “I’m Franklin, by the way. You’re safe now.”
IX
*Three Months Later near Lexington, KY*
A cold wind swirled through the trees and whipped at Franklin's jacket as he wrapped it tighter around his body. "Dadgum zipper broke again," he muttered. Stopping for a moment, he looked up the road and back behind him. Assured he was still alone, he adjusted his newest weapon acquisition, an AA-12 automatic shotgun, on his shoulder and continued his slow walk. The leaves were falling off the trees, just as dead as the rest of the world seemed to be, offering a bleak reminder to the current state of things. Franklin watched his feet take one step after another, his boots making a little thump on the asphalt, occasionally crunching a dead leaf that had blown across the road.
Cresting the hill, he looked up beyond his feet and gazed at the handiwork his group had completed. Down in a small valley and surrounding a little farm was a small blockade in the spirit of frontier building. Ditches and sharpened logs surrounded the farmhouse and barns, and children were playing inside the compound. It was a decent size, and Franklin was proud of their accomplishment. A smile creased his face as he watched several small kids laughing and playing tag safely inside the walls.
He heard a rustling behind him in the trees, causing the smile to slowly leave his face as he turned to look. He could make out several rotters making their way towards him, snapping twigs and crunching the leaves beneath their shuffling feet. Franklin's eyes hardened as they shuffled their way out of the woods and into the ditch on the side of the road. Now he could see that there were three of them as they scrambled to get upright and lurched themselves towards him. Calmly, he slid the shotgun off his shoulder and slammed the butt of the gun into the head of the nearest one. He repeated himself on the other two and grunted satisfactorily. "That's three more that won't be bothering us," he said turning back towards home. "Will it ever end?"
As he neared the fort, he re-read the sign they had put up. In big orange letters, it read:
"Survivors! This is Fort Regeneration! Please stop in! Fort hours are 8am-5pm."
He chuckled at the line about the hours. It was Katelyn's idea. It seemed ridiculous at first, but it sort of helped to return to the idea of normalcy. Even though they had someone manning the gate at all hours, a "fort representative" was there to talk and trade with survivors from eight to five. Survivors did venture by periodically, but it was becoming more rare as time went on. One happened to be there now, and he waved a greeting to him as the man talked with Jacob.
He neared the gate and yelled, "Franklin! Three seen, three dispatched!" Jacob acknowledged the greeting and opened the gates, allowing Franklin in and then shutting them behind him.
"Daddy!" Seth yelled as he left his new friend and toys and sprinted to Franklin.
Wrapping Seth in his arms, he spun him around and whispered, "It's good to be home..."
“Mommy’s home too!” Seth whispered, thinking they were playing a game. Franklin laughed and squeezed him again before letting him go. Seth ran back to rejoin his friends, and Franklin stood there simply watching him for a bit.
At first, it had been rough building the stockade and making the settlement successful. Jacob, Franklin’s family, Caleb, Jesse, and Katelyn were the original members and they had chosen the small farm on the outskirts of Lexington to hole up in. As time went on, other survivors began to join them, so they started putting up walls and additional buildings with the common goal of becoming as self-sufficient as possible. However, as more survivors began to gather, human nature and laziness set in with many trying to skate by on the hard work of others, sharing in the food, but not contributing to the good of the group. The pinch of hunger was still a very recent memory to many as food stores dwindled faster than those who worked could replenish.
Jesse walked up to Franklin with a clipboard in his hand. “Hey, Boss-man, our food stores are doing a lot better lately. We’ve increased them five fold since last month.”
“That’s good!” Franklin noted, pleasantly surprised by the numbers. “That history you remembered pretty much is the driving catalyst for that! Probably saved our settlement here!”
Jesse smiled self-consciously. “Who said history is useless?” During the time of near-starvation, Jesse had remembered something about the colony of Jamestown experiencing something similar, so he scavenged a history book from the library and explored further. What he found was almost identical to their current situation, so he showed it to Franklin and the other leaders, who took action. He remembered standing next to Franklin and Caleb as Franklin announced Captain John Smith’s decree of 1609:
Countrymen, the long experience of our late miseries I hope is sufficient to persuade everyone to a present correction of himself, And think not that either my pains nor the adventurers' purses will ever maintain you in idleness and sloth...
...the greater part must be more industrious, or starve...
You must obey this now for a law, that he that will not work shall not eat (except by sickness he be disabled). For the labors of thirty or forty honest and industrious men shall not be consumed to maintain a hundred and fifty idle loiterers.
Enforcing that decree resulted in some major turmoil as those who didn’t work continued to be hungry while others were fed. They fought back, but Jesse and Franklin, with the other leaders, stood together and held strong. Slowly, the slothful survivors were bent by the leaders’ iron will and found ways to earn their place at the dinner table.
As Franklin and Jesse stood there, survivors walked to and fro, focused on their tasks. A blacksmith stoked his fire, while a carpenter and his helper worked to shore up holes in the old barn. Three women separated rocks from bushels of beans, while three others baked loaves of bread for the day, the pleasant aroma wafting through the air. Even teenagers had a job, working to learn a job from someone more experienced. The settlement hummed with productive activity, producing a surplus everyone was hoping would keep them supplied throughout the harsher winter months.
Franklin patted Jesse on the shoulder and turned towards his “home” in the farmhouse. When Franklin’s group first arrived at the farm, they slept in the farmhouse, but with each incoming survivor, space became more limited. The settlement was able to reach a temporary solution by hauling in trailers, but as space inside the walls was limited, people had to share housing with other survivors. Tempers often flared when people had to share the cramped quarters, but the leaders tried to channel that aggression into energy to expand the walls outward. That tactic worked well since people were fueled with the prospect of more space to relax, and an additional wall was built a few hundred feet beyond the first one.
To Franklin, this new wall was a work of art, whereas the first one looked awful, a product of being thrown together out of sheer necessity. For the new one, they took a little more time setting t
he logs in concrete and building a platform in strategic spots for observation over the wall. Such a construction feat greatly enhanced their chances of survival, and for that, for the sake of his family, Franklin was truly grateful.
* * *
“I would like to propose a toast,” Franklin exclaimed, his face clearly suggesting a man full of pride and hope. “We’ve been working hard to make this our home for almost 3 months now; and to the newest addition to our small community, Steven!”
“To home and to Steven!” the small band of survivors cried, their voices quickly muffled by the damp canvas tent enveloping the community’s ‘meeting hall’. This evening’s gathering was forced to be held indoors due to the depressing drizzle clinging to the night air.
“Thank you very much,” Steven blushed.
“You’re one of us now,” Franklin continued. “We couldn’t be more appreciative of your medical supplies and construction skills.” He downed the shot, choking as it burned down his throat. “What is this?”
Caleb chuckled and leaned back on the crate he was perched upon. “It’s just a little Kentucky bourbon, man. Aren’t you man enough to handle it?”
“Never been much of a drinking man,” Franklin admitted. “Just every now and then.” He set the glass down and said, “I’m done with that for the night.”
Jackie suddenly stepped into the tent carrying a large steaming pot. “A special occasion requires a special meal.” She beamed. “Steven, this is that box of pinto beans and rice you found last week.”
“Ah yes, I almost lost my hand for those beans.”
Jackie hurried about the tent, ladling the hot morsels into the waiting bowl in each individual’s hands. After serving everyone else she finally plopped down next to her husband and dug in. The warm food quickly rejuvenated her body and lifted her spirits.
As the group finished eating Franklin took the opportunity to speak up. “Tomorrow I think we should begin breaking ground on a root cellar. Let’s get it dug before the ground freezes up.”
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