We covered a lot of ground but the process was very time consuming. We realized that we’d have to do it in pieces. We’d started the north, but we needed to handle St. Albans and then, most importantly, address Burlington to the south. We’d been on the road for a week and needed some rest, so we headed to the house in St. Albans. Mike and Ben insisted on keeping one of the F150s with four doors and double tires in the back and I decided to let them, if George agreed to ride with them. He was a good guy and said he would but only if Mike drove slow. The grin on Mike’s face was a mile wide.
The house was in good condition so we set up a watch rotation and got some rest for a couple of days. We had pretty much used up our rations so we restocked the two vehicles from the stores at the house. On the third day we started clearing St. Albans. As usual, our goals were to locate survivors, eradicate zombies, and find supplies, pretty much in that order.
Chapter Twenty Nine: The Bat Cave
We decided to work in two teams of three and that we’d start by working in a circle around our base, which Ben for some reason called the “Bat Cave” and we sort of started using it. The teams were Mike, Ben and me and Jake, George, and Darnell. We’d stay in radio contact and fire our weapons only if we had to.
Each team carried a 20 pound sledgehammer to break doors down and fluorescent pink spray paint to mark houses that we’d cleared. We’d use fluorescent yellow paint to mark houses that had stuff we wanted to come back to. Each team had a notebook to write down any really good finds and a hammer and nails to re-seal each house.
We got it down to where we could do a house in about ten minutes. We’d check for chimney smoke. If none, we’d break in the back and storm through the main floors, then the basement, then the attic. We’d throw any zombies out into the back yard and find something in the house to burn them with. Every house had flammable stuff in it. They burned pretty well for frozen meat; something about the virus must have made them more flammable.
The scenes in the homes were horrific. Lots of people had clearly murdered their families then killed themselves. Others had turned, then torn each other apart, then frozen. A smaller number had barricaded themselves in then survived for awhile, then either gone murder/suicide or zombie. There were lots of kids and lots of babies. We were getting used to tragedy, kind of numb to it. We burned every house that had dead bodies or blood in it.
We got used to checking for houses with lots of bodies in front. Those at least had weapons. We had plenty of guns but we wanted more ammo and guns in our main calibers—.22, .45, and .223—as well as explosives, mines, and bigger stuff.
We didn’t find any survivors on the first day. We worked for about six hours and cleared over fifty houses. The take was a couple hundred dead zombies and a decent cache of .22 rounds from a house that had thousands of shells but no weapons. Go figure.
The next morning we got up early and started where we left off. We found survivors in the first house that morning. A big white house with black shutters was carefully barricaded and kept neat as a pin. At least three chimneys were going. The house just felt right so I walked onto the driveway, stopped about 50 feet from the house, put my M4 on the ground, and called out.
Someone from the house quickly yelled “Turn around, mister.” I don’t really know why, but I did.
“Are you alone?”
“No, but I’m friendly. We’re looking for survivors and supplies. And we’re killing zombies.”
“Sounds good. If I were younger, I’d come with you. Come on in.”
I radioed it in to Mike and went into the house. The man I had been talking to was old. We introduced ourselves, then his wife came down. She was even older. Their names were Brick and Edith. We talked for awhile and I asked if they’d like to come with us. I told them a bit about the Farm, but not where it was. Trust was no longer in my vocabulary when it came to strangers. They asked about all of the people at the Farm and what they did and how we had gotten together. It was a delightful meeting, so nice to sit and talk like the old days.
Finally, Brick and Edith exchanged a glance. “We want to stay here,” said Brick, “but we’d like you to take the kids.”
“Okay,” I said. “We have a bunch of kids. I’m sure they’ll like it at the Farm.
Edith called them up from the basement. “Boys, come on up. We’ve got company.”
To my great surprise, the “kids” were at least sixty years old. Two huge, fat, bearded idiots wearing matching overalls. Not idiots in the classic sense, since these guys would probably have been ranked as morons under the old scale, which moved up from idiot, to imbecile, to moron. (Now they use the same term for all three classes—congressmen.) These guys looked like Bluto in the old Popeye cartoons. Their names were Elliot and Barry, like those furniture guys.
We spoke briefly. Elliot and Barry seemed nice enough but they wanted to stay with their folks. They had simply never grown up. Apparently, they did all of the work around the house and took care of the old folks. I thought they needed to stay together more than anything, so I proposed that they all come to the Farm. They refused. I proposed that they all come to the Bat Cave. Barry and Elliott beamed, jumped up and down, clapped their hands, and yelled “yes!” Even after I told them it was not the real Bat Cave, they were still excited. I called everyone in and we packed up their stuff and brought them over there.
Amazingly, they had no weapons except for a couple of long-handled shovels. Apparently, Barry and Elliott were some serious bad asses, so we figured they’d do a good job of watching the Bat Cave when we were gone. It was no use teaching them how to use firearms; it was simply beyond them. Brick was okay with a .45, though, and Edith could handle a 12 gauge if she had to, so I figured they’d be okay. Barry and Elliott insisted on fixing up a room in the basement and Brick and Edith chose a room on the first floor.
That killed that entire day. That night, Brick told us about their experience. Barry and Elliott were huge zombie fans. They had somehow immediately known what was happening and attacked anyone who came onto the property with their shovels. They mostly decapitated them with strikes to the throat. Edith was pretty sure that they’d ended a few people who hadn’t turned yet, so I made her feel better by telling her that many people had died after they let infecteds into their house. I told her that Barry and Elliott had done the right thing and that we were glad to have them.
Apparently, other than their miraculous and immediate interdiction with the zombies, neither Barry nor Elliott had ever committed a violent act in their lives. They spent their time eating, watching TV, and leafing through comic books. Elliott could read a bit and he’d sound them out to Barry. Barry could understand a bit, so he’d try to explain them to Elliott. The best way to describe them would be that they were the world’s only idiot savants of zombie lore and prevention. They were also up on vampires, all of Spiderman’s enemies, and certain types of ghosts, but zombies were their “thing.”
The next morning, Edith fixed us the best breakfast that we’d had since the Incident. Ham, eggs, hash browns and toast. No wonder those guys were so big. She also made really good coffee. We rolled out and started again in the house next to Brick’s.
We got through about 80 houses that day. No other survivors, but I made a great find. One of the houses was owned by a guy who owned a construction company. In his basement, he had a bunch of those fancy shovels that you use for ground breaking ceremonies. I found a pair of beauties, ash handled with solid silver blades. He also had a beautiful pair of 1911 .45s, a gorgeous old Boss 12 gauge over under, and about a thousand rounds of ammo for each. That was a good stop.
That night, Barry and Elliott were beside themselves when I presented them with the shovels. Brick and Edith were gracious when I gave them their weapons but I think they felt so safe with Barry and Elliott around that they literally didn’t worry about weapons. I don’t think Edith ever knew she had a $50,000 gun under her bed. Brick kept one of the .45s around with him but I never saw him fi
re it.
The next day was to be our last before we checked back in at the Farm. We had been gone for thirteen days and had agreed to return before fifteen days had passed. After seventeen days, they’d send out a rescue team. I realized that we really needed a good shortwave setup at the Bat Cave, especially with our new permanent occupants. That meant we’d need a generator and a fuel supply as well.
So, we’d use day fourteen and return before the end of day fifteen. We hadn’t really accomplished everything we wanted but so far it had been a productive trip. We’d partially blocked access from the north and cleared a decent part of St. Albans, but there was a long way to go.
Chapter Thirty: The Armory
We decided to crack the armory on our last day in town. We got up early and, to our surprise, Edith had another great breakfast waiting for us. We thanked her and told her that we might not be back and that we’d see them next time we were in town, which would be soon.
We’d unloaded all of the stuff we’d found at the Bat Cave, so we had an empty truck, the Hummer, and the trailer to fill up with our finds that day. We got to the armory at daybreak and checked for signs of occupation. Nothing. I took my sledgehammer and broke into a back door and four of us entered the building. George stayed in the Hummer, manning the .30 cal, and Mike covered him, and the rear of the armory, from a protected position behind a granite wall.
The armory had clearly been attacked, then cleaned up. There were smears of blood and gore on the walls and floors and even on the ceilings. No bodies, but lots of bullet holes and brass everywhere. We were in a corridor of offices. We checked each one carefully. They were pretty well shot up. In one, there were some military spec laptops and what looked like field phone equipment so we grabbed that and put it in the hall to take later. That was it for that corridor, which ended in a t shape. I decided to go to the right first. At the end of that short hall was a large freight elevator and set of utility stairs. The elevator was blown to hell but the stairs were clear so we took them down. We figured that they’d keep the good stuff underground.
Jim had set us up with tactical lights for our M4s so we were ready for the dark down there—at least a little bit. It was still scary as hell. From the ground floor we descended at least four more floors to the bottom of the stairs. We moved out into a large open space; it was so big that our lights didn’t reach to the end. Stacks and stacks of stuff in boxes and crates piled to the ceiling as far as we could see. I had no idea how we’d get it out but it was there. It was so far underground that it was actually warm in there, about 55 degrees.
I motioned to Jake, Ben and Darnell to stick with me while we covered the entire perimeter of the room. It was 90 paces long before it turned to the right, then about 100 paces, then another right turn. In the middle of that wall was an opening into another wide corridor. For the first time, we started seeing bodies. Lots of bodies. This looked like an area where a last desperate struggle had occurred. We moved over and through the bodies to a machine gun emplacement that guarded an open door. Through the door was a lab, and in the lab were eight dead men and woman in white lab coats wearing some type of gas masks. There bodies were intact; no bites or wounds. There were a bunch of dead soldiers on the ground as well. Their bodies were ripped up, as were the dozens of dead soldiers and scientists stacked around them.
"Don’t touch anything!” I whispered. “I think these scientists used some type of gas or bio weapon as a last ditch defense and it killed them. We might already be dead men, but hopefully it wore off already.” I grabbed a leather journal from one of the scientists and stuck it in my pack."
Just then, Ben turned and knocked a vial of something off of a desk or table. It made a huge crashing sound that echoed in the dark space. We all jumped and I almost shot Ben.
Ben figured it out first: “Is it cold enough down here to freeze them?”
Seconds later, we heard rustling sounds, followed by the familiar low moaning. A lot of rustling, and a lot of moaning.
"We’re gonna find out, kid.” I replied. “Darnell, check that .50 cal. Ben, stack bodies in front of the emplacement but leave room to shoot. Jake, if there’s ammo, you’ll feed Darnell. Short bursts. Ben, you cover them. Save your shots for when they reload. I’ll cover your rear. Shut off the lights and keep quiet.” I grabbed some cotton balls from a jar and told everyone to use them as hearing protection; that .50 would be loud.
Jake and Darnell confirmed that there was plenty of ammo for the .50 and set it up. It made a huge noise when they racked it. I hoped it would fire. The rustling sounds picked up, as did the moaning, and now the shuffling began. They were coming.
I didn’t want any surprises from the rear so I quickly ended the eight scientists with my new Buck knife. They were not frozen so the blade slid right in. I took a quick look around the lab, which was pretty small with only two other doors. One led to a closet; the other led down another hallway. I listened but heard nothing down there and decided that would be our emergency escape if we were overrun. I closed the door and mentally noted where it was. I decided to wait until Darnell fired to put my own cotton balls in.
When it was over, we had learned an expensive but valuable lesson about the Zs. They lived in packs and had some type of collective intelligence, kind of like bees or ants. There were worker Zs, (your basic shamblers), army Zs (your Wolves), and other specialties as well. Turns out the Brains are just middle management. This particular armory was home base to what I’d call the regional manager. She’d gone to ground in the underground storage facility knowing or sensing that they would not freeze down there. They’d gone dormant in the darkness and cold but had been partially awakened by our noise and had snapped awake when Ben knocked the cylinder over.
For the first time, they used a ruse on us. A bunch of shamblers appeared and Darnell, properly, waited until they got closer to fire. Just before he pulled the trigger, they scattered, moving very quickly. He delayed just a bit and his delay cost him. He got most of them but a small, quick one dodged through and took a swipe at Darnell just as Ben shot him.
The swipe hit Darnell on the face and opened him right up. To Darnell’s credit, he stayed on the gun, even knowing that he was a dead man. Jake knew, too, but just kept feeding belts. They were able to take down the rest of the Zs that came down the hall with the .50 cal. But not all of the Zs were coming down the hall. A few traveled overhead, above the suspended ceiling, and dropped down on Jake and Darnell, tearing them to shreds. I grabbed Ben and pushed him toward the door, screaming at him to run. To his credit, and per our training, Ben took off. His orders were to save himself from a hopeless situation.
I was able to drop the two who had fallen on Jake and Darnell with a couple of shots. A couple of the dead soldiers had grenades, and I rolled those down the hall, blowing up at least another dozen Zs. I think these were all Wolves. I had to end Jake and Darnell, too. It quieted down for a bit and I heard Ben gasp from down the hall. My hall was silent so I changed magazines and moved out.
Ben was surrounded by two Brains, two Wolves, and a new type of Z that I’d never seen. She was tall, stood erect, was clean and properly dressed, and moved well. Her eyes had the reddish/blackish tint of a zombie; otherwise she could have passed for human. She couldn’t really speak but just hissed at me. It sounded like words but I couldn’t make them out. My ears were ringing from the .50 going off in the tight space.
They were so close to Ben that I knew they’d get him even if I shot perfectly. Ben had his .45 out but it was down by his waist. I didn’t think he could get it aimed and fire it in time.
I decided to try a bit of trickery myself. I turned off my light and ran down the hall. I’d noticed a recess in the wall and I stood silently in it while the Wolves and Brains moved rapidly past. When they were around the corner, I returned to Ben.
The female zombie had ripped out his throat and was eating him. She hadn’t noticed me yet so I lined her up for a kill shot with my light. She sensed me and lea
ped right through the ceiling. I couldn’t believe it. From a crouch to a ten foot leap in the blink of an eye.
I knew the Wolves and Brains would be returning so I pulled the pins on my last two grenades and rolled them down the hall. That worked well; just as they arrived the grenades went off and blew them to hell. They were probably still “alive” in the zombie sense but they could not move or at least not very fast. I heard the Alpha bitch shriek in anger. Now I could hear what she was hissing from the ceiling. “He is coming. The king is coming.”
I turned off my light and sat down. I was absolutely silent. When the bitch hissed again I opened up on full auto where I thought she was. She fell heavily to the floor in front of me and I emptied another full magazine into her head and neck just to be sure.
I could hear some rustling behind me so I took off like a bat out of hell. I found a staircase at the end of the hall and raced up it. They were getting closer, but it was also getting a lot colder. I wondered if that would slow them down. Finally, I was on the ground floor, got my bearings, and headed to the back. They were still right on my tail.
I hit the door running at full speed and screaming. George was right where he should have been and I dove and rolled to give him a clear shot. I hit my head and knocked the breath out of myself. George opened up with the .30 and dropped a dozen Wolves and four Brains who followed me out of the building.
George hopped down off the Hummer to help me out when Ben ran out of the building. George turned to him and said something like “What the fuck” when Ben knocked him down and jumped on him. I tried to line Ben up for a shot but was seeing double. Thank God for Mike. He figured it out just in time and dropped Ben with a shot from the M24. The .338 Lapua pulped Ben’s head into mush and ricocheted off the building with a loud whang.
Zombie Dawn Page 18