Zombie Rules

by Achord, David

“Well, it’s an International airport. They have flights incoming from all over the world. About seventy to seventy-five million passengers a year go through the airport along with over a million tons of freight. If they’ve suspended all flights, it must be quite serious.” Rick nodded thoughtfully. He walked over to the map and replaced the blue thumbtack over Chicago with a red one.

  “I don’t know how you know all these little facts about everything. But it’s damn helpful.” He scratched at his beard. “When something major like this happens, it can only mean one thing Zach. It means it can’t be contained.” My skepticism about Rick’s theory was long gone. All I could do was nod in agreement. He sat down in front of his Ham radio and grabbed the microphone. “WA4OEQ, QTH middle Tennessee, calling any listening station. Chicago is now in condition red. Chicago is now in condition red, over.”

  After a moment, there was a response. “WD5KZZ to WA4OEQ, my QTH is Tulsa, Oklahoma. QSM please sir, over.”

  Rick looked over at me. “QTH means the location you’re at and QSM means to repeat your last message. I need you to learn all this.” He looked at me seriously. “You need to know what a brother-in-law is too.” Rick turned his attention back to the radio before I could retort and repeated the information, going into more detail. After a few minutes of conversation, Rick bid the man seven’s and three’s, radio lingo for good luck, and signed off. “Okay, you heard what Tulsa said. Put a yellow tack on Tulsa, Norman, Oklahoma City, and Kansas City.” I did as told and we looked at the map together in silence for several seconds. Rick began pointing at the various tacks and making lines from each one. All of the major cities on the map were now covered in thumbtacks. “In just two days we have some reds and a whole shit load of yellows across the US alone.” He said it quietly, as though he did not believe it, even though he is the one so certain it was going to happen. “It’s spreading like wildfire.” I looked over at Rick’s dogs. They were looking at the map also.

  In the ensuing hours, all of the airports and seaports closed. The Interstate system became a massive traffic jam with people frantically going to some place they believed to be safer than where they were. Grocery stores were emptied of their wares. Convenience stores, popular for the ease of purchasing gasoline and minor food products, were overrun with impatient customers. It inevitably lead to short tempers and fights. Spontaneous riots were breaking out as people could not seem to grasp what was happening. It was the government, they’d shout. Somehow, it was always the government’s fault.

  The President gave a live speech promptly at six o’clock. I turned the volume up on the TV. “My fellow Americans,” He began.

  “Oh shit, here it comes. Get ready to bend over fellow Americans. BOHICA!” Rick yelled.

  “I am speaking to you this evening from the confines of Air Force One. As you may now know, the world has been beset upon by a deadly illness of pandemic proportions…”

  “Well no shit, Sherlock.”

  “...I have activated all military units, personnel with FEMA, and the CDC…”

  “You should have done that weeks ago, numb nuts.”

  “…This morning, I called upon Congress to join with me in enacting martial law…” Rick looked at me. I nodded in understanding.

  “…We must have faith, perseverance, and work together if we are to survive…”

  “Oh I believe you pal, you’ve helped out so much already.” Rick’s running commentary prevented me from hearing the majority of the speech. It was irritating, but I guess it did not really matter.

  “…may God bless you, and may he have mercy upon us.”

  The map was completely covered in red by the end of the week.

  Chapter 9 - Our First Zombie

  Rick folded his arms, sighed loudly and climaxed with a loud belch. We had just finished a breakfast of eggs, sausage, and lard biscuits. I asked Rick once why, in all of his planning, he never bothered getting any dairy cows. I never got an answer, just a surly stare. We were absorbed in our thoughts as we finished off the last of the fresh orange juice. “I have made a grievous tactical error.” Rick said. I looked at him. He looked at me. The dogs looked at both of us. “If everyone is going to die off, we should have gotten us a couple of ladies to shack up with us.” He scratched his whiskers. “It’s going to be hell without getting some pussy every once in a while.”

  “But you hate women. You said so yourself.” I said.

  He glared at me indignantly. “Not true! I like women. I like the way they look, the way they move, the way they feel, I like the way they smell. Hell, I like the way they taste, if you know what I mean. But, I can’t stand to be around them for any length of time. It doesn’t matter anymore I guess, they’re all dead.” He was looking at the map as he spoke.

  All television, radio stations, and the Internet had gone down some time ago. It was the same with the phones, both cell phones and the landline. All of them were dead. I tried them often, but the result was always the same.

  I had tried calling Felix before the phones went out, but never got through to him. I hoped he was okay. I was sorely tempted to call Macie, and was about to do so until Rick told me to quit being stupid.

  I had managed to oppress any thoughts of Macie, well mostly, but when Rick started talking about women, I would instantly start thinking of her. Was she alive? Was she still with Jason? It frustrated me. I wanted to see her. At least, I thought I did. I definitely wanted to see Felix. I missed him terribly.

  “Everyone isn’t dead.” I exclaimed as I put my shoes on. My ribs had healed to the point where they only bothered me occasionally so I could now bend over and put my shoes on without too much discomfort. “You want me to feed the cows and chickens today?” It was cold out now, the grass was dormant and the livestock needed additional food in order to survive the winter.

  I was walking toward the door when Rick snapped his fingers several times at me to get my attention. “What do you mean everyone isn’t dead? How the hell do you think you know that? Neither one of us has left this farm in almost a month, and this damn radio has been awfully quiet.”

  I finished tying my shoes. I was going to go for a jog after the morning chores were done. “Simple math.” I said. Rick made a circular motion with his hand. I guess he meant I should continue. “Alright think of it this way. The two of us basically quarantined ourselves out here, merely over a gut feeling you had and not much else. We don’t know anything about this disease other than what we’ve been reading on the Internet and listening to on TV. It infects the host and either kills them or converts them into a violent, maniacal murdering animal.”

  “Zombies.” Rick opined.

  “Yeah, if that’s what you want to call them. So, how does a person become infected? We don’t know. We’ve heard many different theories, but we’re in the dark in this area. We didn’t catch it though, which is good. So, two living souls. We can use that number as a base. There are approximately two million people who live in the mid-state area. If you assume we are the only two survivors in this immediate area, one only has to do the math,” I grabbed a notepad with my ever expanding to-do list, got a fresh piece of paper, and wrote it out. “The assumed rate of survival will be .000001%. Now, consider that there are approximately 6 billion people on the planet. That is a six with nine zeros after it.” I wrote it out. “So, using our base survival percentage, at the minimum, there are approximately six thousand people left alive in the world. However, to assume that the base value is only two is just not logical. I believe there are many other pockets of survivors in this area alone. I’ve no doubt there are people who quarantined themselves just like us, and there are probably people who are immune, just like when the bubonic plague hit Europe and the Spanish flu hit the world.”

  Rick watched as I wrote out the equations. “How many do you think would be immune?”

  I shrugged. “I have no idea really. If I were to guess, 20% of the population, but that’s a rather liberal guess.” I looked at Rick, he was star
ing at the ceiling trying to add it up in his head. It was going to give him a migraine. Little wisps of smoke were starting to come out of his ears. I helped him out. “Somewhere around 1.2 billion. That’s worldwide. But think of this, after this infection burns out, there is going to be a massive die off due to starvation, disease, lack of proper medical care, violence, well you know the rest. You also have other variables.”

  “What kind of variables?” Rick asked.

  “Variables like Cheyenne Mountain and Raven Rock. They have contingency plans in place for mass catastrophe events such as this. They have also thought of this possibility and created what is called a Continuity of Government plan. I’d be willing to bet all of the NATO countries have a similar contingency plan, as well as Russia and China.” I started to think about it. Did they survive? How were they going to restore order? I started a new page with the acronym COG written on top and started scribbling notes.

  Rick’s attention had wandered, now he focused on the other maps. Each wall had maps of the state and individual cities. He had framed pictures hanging on the walls at one time, nice nature scenes, but a couple of nights ago he got drunk, smashed them all up, and burned them in the fire. I swept up pieces of glass for the rest of the day. I’m glad we didn’t cut our feet and get some kind of infection. At least now we had empty wall space for our maps.

  He waved his hand toward them and looked at me. “Let’s say you and me go on a little recon mission this afternoon? We can start with Franklin.”

  “What happened with our plan of hunkering down here until spring?” I asked.

  Rick looked at me like I had said something involving bestiality and dog feces. “Do you really want to live the rest of your life without a woman?” He asked sarcastically.

  Now it was my turn to give him a look. “I’m going to feed the livestock, and then I’m going for a run. Anything else you can think of that needs to be done?”

  “Yeah, start the generator. I’m going to take a hot shower. Then I’m going to get on the Ham radio and see if I can raise any of those 1.2 billion people. And while you’re on your run, put your brain to work on planning out a recon and scavenging mission. We got plenty of food and water, but we can always use some more dog food. And fuel. And most importantly, whiskey. And don’t forget about females.”

  I shook my head and chuckled at the old man as I strapped on a Glock handgun and a knife. I did not expect any trouble, hell we had not seen anyone since Junior left, but I was not going to get my ass kicked again. The days of Zach Gunderson being a meek little lamb were over. I did a press check to insure there was a bullet in the chamber, stretched, and then started out.

  There was a trail around the perimeter of the farm. We used it regularly to check the fence lines. My first mile was a little rough. I had not gone running since my little encounter due to the ribs. The cold air burned my throat and lungs, but it felt good. The burning sensation was having a healing effect on my soul.

  As I ran, I thought about what Rick said and what he wanted to do. In just a couple of weeks’ time the disease had spread across the planet and overwhelmed the entire human population. Neither of us were knowledgeable enough to know if it had run its course and burned out, or if we would always be at risk for infection. I thought about the sick scientist in Antarctica. How in the world did he become infected? Their remote location practically ensured a state of quarantine of sorts, yet one of them had become infected. It was a mystery.

  I hit the second mile with an increase in my stride. I was feeling good. The third mile was upon me before I knew it. I felt wonderful. In spite of being cooped up with Rick every night, the country living was good for me. I began stretching out my stride when I caught movement out of the corner of my eye. There was a woman walking across a field adjacent to our farm. It was owned by a middle-aged couple, Mr. and Mrs. Riggins. As I watched, she walked slowly along, seemingly going nowhere. I stopped and waved at her. She did not respond. Something was wrong. I ran back to the house and told Rick. A minute later we were on an ATV and rode back. She was still there, staring absently at the fence. “There she is. See her?” Rick nodded. “Watch this. Hey!” I yelled out to her and waved. She was about a hundred yards off. And naked. When she saw us, she started a weird loping walk, not quite a trot, toward us.

  Rick picked up his rifle. “There’s something wrong with that one kid. Look at her face, it’s been torn all to hell or something.” He was right. There were several deep gouges in her face and the wounds were filled with pus. Only her eyes seemed to have any life. They were darting back and forth, first on me, then on Rick.

  I looked at him in mock surprise. “But, you said you wanted a woman!” I pointed earnestly. “Well there you go.” She was about fifty yards away from us now. It was obvious she was diseased. Rick tried yelling at her but she just moaned or screamed or something. She hit the fence and bounced off of it, like she did not even know it was there.

  We watched her for a few minutes as she tried to walk through the wire. “She doesn’t know how to climb, does she?” Rick shook his head.

  “Try talking to her.” I said.

  Rick gave me a cock-eyed look. “Are you serious?”

  I tried to look serious. “I need to observe her. You talk, I’ll observe.”

  Rick shrugged and walked closer to the fence. He wrinkled his nose. “Woo, she stinks to high heaven, her skin is all rotted. Hey baby, aren’t you cold? Where are your clothes? Those sure are some saggy looking titties you got.” He glanced over at me and grinned.

  She suddenly reached through one of the square openings of the fence and tried to grab Rick, emitting a blood curdling moan as she did so. Rick jumped back, lifted his rifle and fired. He hit her in the gut. He stared at her in morbid fascination. “Are you seeing this? She’s not dying. Hell, I don’t even think she felt a thing.” The woman kept trying to reach for Rick. The gunshot halted her moaning only momentarily.

  He suddenly pointed. “Holy shit I see it! Look, she’s been bitten!”

  I saw it then. There were two distinct deep bite marks on her right arm and shoulder. I stepped forward and tried to get a good look at her then. She had pallid, scaly skin coloration, and cloudy, bloodshot eyes. There were chunks of hair missing from her scalp, as if she were beginning to decompose. There were scratches all over her, but none of them appeared to be bleeding. She actually was breathing, sort of. A painful sounding rasp.

  “Shoot her in the head Rick.” He glanced over at me, grinned, and put a 30-06 round between her eyes. The kinetic energy of the bullet, coupled with the close range, caused the back of her head to explode outward. She dropped instantly. Rick stuck his rifle through the fence and poked her several times with it. “I’d say the blogs were right, only a headshot will stop them.”

  Rick suddenly stopped and stared quietly. After a minute he spoke softly. “That’s the neighbor’s wife.”

  I frowned. “Who?” I asked.

  “That’s Susan Riggins. Henry’s wife.” Rick said. I stared at the woman. With most of her face missing I could not recognize her. Rick realized my consternation. “One afternoon back in June she stopped in. Henry had gone to Dalton, Georgia for something or another. We had a few drinks and ended up in the sack together. That’s how I know it’s her. See the three moles down there by her cooter? It’s her alright.”

  I looked. Yep, three moles, each about the size of a dime, together in a cloverleaf shape. They looked swollen and cancerous, but I guess it did not matter now. She looked awful. The old phrase: death warmed over, was an apt description for her.

  I had only met her once. I recalled she did not look much better in real life. I patted him on the shoulder. “I sincerely doubt it’s as good as it was back then, but if you need some time alone with her, I understand.” Rick reached out and goosed me in my sore ribs. “Did she smell that bad when you banged her? He tried to goose me again but I was too quick.

  We loaded the body onto the back of the ATV, carried i
t to a nearby sinkhole and set it on fire.

  Chapter 10 - A Trek In To Franklin

  After much haggling, Rick convinced me to go along. I think he was more worried about running out of whiskey than he was about picking up women, but we certainly could use some more dog food. Those little bastards sure could eat. “If you knew this was coming, why didn’t you build a still?” I asked.

  “I did.” He responded sheepishly. “It blew up. Damn near killed me. I was going to build another one, but never got around to it.” I laughed. He glared at me. “Shut up.” He quipped.

  We worked the rest of the afternoon preparing the farm truck. We took some spare wood and made frames around the windows. We then stapled hardware cloth to the wooden frames. Much like we had done to the windows of the house weeks before. The idea was to keep anyone or anything from breaking out the windows and getting to us. It was not bulletproof of course, but we did not have anything for that issue. We cut out holes in the middle of each door window so we could stick our guns out. Murder holes.

  “Why don’t we just go up to Fort Campbell and steal a tank?” Rick pondered while we were working.

  “Might be a good possibility in the future. Do you know how to drive one and work on it? Did you mess with tanks when you were in the Army?”

  Rick grunted. “No, I was infantry, an Airborne Ranger. Well, it was a thought. We’ll try to find some tank manuals for you to read up on. So, you got a route planned out?”

  “I do. Let’s say we ride over to the Riggins’ house first. If there are any more zombies, we’ll need to kill them off.” Rick glanced up at me. “Well somebody sure bit her.” I said.

  Rick chuckled. “No, I agree with you. It’s just, listening to you talk. It’s not the same as it was just a short month ago. You’ve changed kid. You’re all hard core now. You’ve put on some muscle in the shoulders too. Maybe when we get into town we shop for some clothes as well.”