OUTNUMBERED (Book 3)

by Robert Schobernd

  Kira turned onto our gravel lane when we reached Deliverance at eight that evening. I called the guard towers on the radio and the gate slowly jerked opened. While on the radio I told them to get our doctor, Ira Sparrow, down to door nine because we had five new potential members. Vince parked the tractor and semitrailer against the fence as far from the compound as he could and let the diesel engine run to keep the food in the trailer from freezing.

  While Ira and our nurse, Marcie Tanka, saw that the new people had baths, meals and then were examined, I did the bath and meal thing, too. Close to midnight, the last of the five people were put in the holding cells where they would remain for three weeks to ensure they weren’t contaminated by the undead. If they transformed while in detention they would be exterminated like any other zombie. Sometimes even I cringed at the harshness of our new lives.

  After the last cell door closed on our reticent new recruits, I found Ira in his office. He'd waited for me to finish locking our guest away. He looked tired and haggard. I sat and felt concerned at him. "Are you okay? You look exhausted."

  He smiled weakly. "I'm fifty-four years old. That in itself is good reason to be tired these days, but then everyone is as tired as I am. I'm fine. A few good nights sleep will put me right again."

  "Take care of yourself, we need you." I switched from Ira's condition to the people he'd examined. "What's your opinion of the five newcomers?"

  He closed his eyes, leaned back in the black leather desk chair and thumped a pencil on the desk. "The two middle-aged people," he leaned forward and sifted through papers until he located the two he wanted, "Anthony Margherio and his wife Irene. He's forty-six, she's forty-four. Both are in good health, considering they've been on their own for the past three years. He was the building superintendent of a large upscale apartment complex near where you found them. She'd been an accountant's assistant. They lived this long by cleaning out all the food, water, wine, beer and other liquids and so on they could find in the other apartments when the other tenants left. Last week they ran out of rations and struck out on their own. Three nights ago, they joined up with the older people who died and the younger couple.

  "Those two are Matthew and Maureen Holden. They're both drug addicts. Their health is poor, but since we don't allow drugs or liquor here, their health may improve dramatically... Let's see…He's twenty-four and she's twenty-seven. They both changed jobs frequently before the zombies arrived; I couldn't pin either of them down. Employer's drug test found them out every time, I assume. Both appear intelligent and have philosophy degrees. They'll be okay for general help until we learn more details of their work experience. They've existed with a small group of his relatives in the north woods of Michigan until recently. The group's numbers declined during a run-in with zombies, and they say they decided to go back to Chicago to locate other relatives. I think they must have exhausted their drug supply and felt the drugs would be more available in a large city. They've likely been raiding liquor stores and pharmacies to get high and staying on the move and hiding out in different places. It's a wonder they're still alive.

  "And then there is Grace Abbot." Ira shook his head and exhaled hard. "Miss Abbot, say's she's twenty-one, but I think that's overstating her age by about three or possibly four years. She claims to have worked at retail outlets as a clerk, but the way she was dressed and physical signs I saw during her exam lead me to think she's been existing as a prostitute. When I inquired as to how she'd existed these past three years she abruptly changed the subject. She has an attitude and a hard edge. She may cause problems. I hope I'm wrong, but that's my gut feeling."

  "It's late, my friend, let's call it a day and get some rest. It's been a long day all around."

  CHAPTER TWO

  Four days later, I drove to Mason City with Marcie Tanka and Janice Holescheck. We'd left Fort Dodge earlier after pilfering boxes full of books from the public library and the Buena Vista University Library. We worked from a long list of subjects to collect information on, but we'd concentrated mainly on medical home remedies, growing and preserving foods hundreds of years ago and cloth weaving. This was the first of many trips we anticipated making to preserve knowledge that would be imperative during the anticipated imminent decline of civilization.

  Zombies were present throughout our drive, but they were scattered in small random-sized groups. We dealt with the ones that were close enough to interfere with us and hurried away from the others. One thing we guard against is getting too cocky for our own good and placing ourselves or our friends in needless danger.

  Ten miles south of Mason City, I crested a slight hill and saw a pickup moving from the shoulder onto our lane of the roadway. I flipped on my lights and flashed them several times to get the other people's attention. It must have worked because they sped away from us and kept going. That irked me so I sped up and followed them toward the city.

  As we approached the city limits, the strangers slowed to avoid a wreck that blocked both lanes. They pulled onto the steeply inclined grassy surface past the right shoulder to skirt the wreckage. We caught up to them and were about ten yards away when the sliding rear window opened and a handgun pointed at us. Three shots rang out, but none hit our truck. I accepted that as positive proof they definitely didn't want to have a friendly conversation with us. Our truck stopped dead still. The slider window closed as the strangers sped off. So much for civility.

  Marcie frowned when she said, "Welcome to my harsh new world."

  ~*~*~*~

  Life at Deliverance went on as usual. Our leadership committee met with all of our people who had unique qualifications and asked them to become mentors to the younger members and train those who were interested in learning their skills. In the future, the group would need all the help we could muster when our modern technology, equipment and utilities wore out or were made useless when our electrical generation shut down.

  Our five new members joined the group, but three didn't adjust to their daily work and training assignments. Janice told me Grace didn't fit in with any group she was assigned to. She was surly and snapped at anyone who tried to teach her the proper method of performing the work. She still dressed provocatively and talked with a smart mouth.

  Shane received several negative reports on Matthew and Maureen. They both were ill-tempered and hard to deal with. I had expected that after Ira suggested they showed indications of drug abuse. Both seemed intelligent when I spoke to them and I knew each had college degrees. We all agreed to be patient and give them a chance to adjust to the new people and environment.

  The Margherio's were a pleasant change from the other three. Anthony's skills in building maintenance fit our building upkeep needs, and Irene found a home in our office doing clerical and scheduling work.

  ~*~*~*~

  In April, preparation of our expanded garden plot began. In a field behind our property, we mowed the weeds and native range grass and then planted fruit trees taken from nearby nursery fields. Storage racks seized from retail stores were installed in the upstairs food storage sections for the canned fruits and vegetables we expected. We were slowly adjusting to providing for ourselves in house.

  ~*~*~*~

  In May, Shane came back from a trip near St. Louis, Missouri. His excitement showed as he gathered the leadership committee plus Ira. "Good news, folks. We met four other survivors at a building supply store outside St. Louis. I was impressed by their attitude, sensibility and resourcefulness. They recently lost almost half of their group to a bunch of outlaw humans and then had a bad encounter with a bunch of zombies. They're going back to their people to propose coming here and joining with us. There are sixteen of them total. Three are under sixteen and the other thirteen are adults. They gave us directions to their camp and invited us to go there. What do you think?"

  John Alton thumped a pencil eraser on the table until he said, "I think, based on Shane's opinion, Tom and several others should go and interview them." He turned to me. "We should hav
e room for them. There were originally thirty-six rooms designed for private sleeping spaces; our facility should handle fifty-two easily."

  I thought over the implication and logistics for several seconds. "We use twenty-three of the thirty-six rooms now for living space, so there's room. There are miscellaneous items stored in some of the rooms that will need to be moved. We'll also need more beds, linens and furniture. Another issue is the three week confinement period we've required. How do we fit sixteen people into six small cells?"

  Ira leaned back and sighed. "We don't. That would border on being inhumane." He grinned widely. "They might attack each other the way Alaskan gold miners did when confined in small spaces all winter in what came to be known as cabin fever. I can examine each of them every other day, eight one day and eight the next and watch for sign's of a transformation taking place. It's not ideal, but we can't put two and three people in those small cells."

  Ed and Andrea Michaels nodded.

  I stood. "Okay. I'd like Shane, Andrea and Ira to go with me to meet these people. There's safety in numbers, and we could use more members here. Since Shane is impressed with the people he met, we'll go and meet the others and likely invite them to join us."

  Ed stood. "While you're gone I'll see that the additional beds and so on are gathered and in place upstairs when you get back."

  ~*~*~*~

  Three days later, we drove south out of Sedalia, Missouri, on Route 65. The directions Shane had were good, and two hours later we stopped in front of a large two story lakeside lodge. The use of GPS was another of the lost technologies I longed to use every time I left Deliverance.

  Three camping trailers were parked down an incline close to the lake. Andrea hit the horn three long blast followed by two shorts. She stayed in the driver's seat with the engine running as the rest of us stepped out with our rifles in hand. A man Shane identified as Morgan Halcom left the cabin and waved for us to come down the slight grade to him. He yelled, "You can leave the truck and trailer where you are. You can move it closer to your lodging later."

  Four other adults and two children came out of the cabin, a woman matching Morgan's age of about forty-five and two younger men in their early to mid twenties. An older gray haired but fit looking man stayed on the porch with the two kids. He was introduced as Barney Halcom, Morgan's father. While we spoke to our hosts, Andrea locked the truck and then joined us. I commented on the beautiful log lodge and the setting it was in.

  Morgan said, "We took this over a bit over two years ago when it was clear the owner wasn't coming back. The lodge is spacious, but not big enough to house thirty folks. The trailers accommodated the overflow of people from the lodge. Recently, half of us were gunned down so the rest all fit up here."

  We went into the cabin and met the other twelve people. The large living room displayed dozens of family pictures and mementos. The introductions were quick and I couldn't begin to remember all sixteen new names, but after an hour I remembered most of the relationships. Supper-time came, so we filled our plates with ham steaks, boxed mashed potatoes and canned green beans. The boxed and canned foods were seasoned and flavored so well they tasted great. We found seats in the cozy, country style living room. Our group took turns informing the prospective members of our rules and answering questions. Andrea described Deliverance in detail until Ira removed his notepad and passed it around to show pictures on the screen. It was getting late by then, and Ira said he would conduct physical examinations in the morning before we left.

  Morgan and his wife, Verlie, took us down to the trailers. Andrea was shown to the smallest one and we three men were given a larger unit next to it. Ours was set up to sleep four people. Kerosene lanterns and pitchers and bowls reminded us that we were in an area without the unique facilities we took for granted everyday at Deliverance. Andrea brought the truck and trailer down and parked it behind her unit. We each grabbed the overnight bag we'd packed and made ready to turn in for the night.

  Several hours later, I awoke to a noise that clashed with the monotonous chirping and singing of insects. Light from a three-quarter moon reflected off the calm, dark water in the lake. Four loud shots in quick succession and one of a smaller caliber blasted through the calm stillness. They came from close by, damn close. More shots rang out from near the lodge where Morgan's crew lived.

  Shane and Ira jumped from their beds and were getting into their clothes as I finished tying my boots. I slipped out the door shirtless and went to the corner of our trailer. I stared at the narrow metal door to Angela's quarters. It was open; the body of one man in camouflage lay unmoving collapsed in the doorway. Another body lay on the ground under the dim moon light. That man moaned in pain.

  Andrea called softly as Shane and Ira crept up behind me. Close by, several high powered rifles laid down a barrage of fire. Gunfire flashes streaked through the night between the woods and the lodge. I guessed there were at least eight to twelve people firing at the cabin from the cover of trees. Andrea climbed over the body and raced across a short stretch of open ground to join us. "Did you shoot those men?"

  She nodded. "They forced their way into my trailer."

  In a hushed voice, I said, "Let's go behind the small trailer, and then we'll work our way up toward the road. Swing wide to get in position down from the attackers and somewhat behind them. We don't want to be shooting in line with the main cabin or we'll hit our friends. Find cover, and then we'll take them on. Stay at least six feet apart. Let's go and give ‘em hell, but be careful. Wait here until I finish the one that's moaning." I pulled my combat knife then used it.

  We scurried across the twenty-foot open space between the trailers stooped low. We used the same stance as we left the cover of the metal boxes and spread out. Sporadic shooting continued as we cautiously advanced up the rocky ground toward the attackers. Moonlight filtered through the leafless trees to cast eerie shadows that aided our stealthy approach. Fifty feet from the attackers we could make out their forms hidden in the shadows cast by dense tree limbs. Gunfire and the attacker's concentration covered the sounds of our approach. The four of us took cover behind trees or on the ground behind rocks or logs. In a three second span, all four of us fired multiple rounds at dark targets we'd sighted on. Screams of pain bellowed out as the attackers were hit. Some turned to return fire at us. Unfortunately for them, their movements revealed their positions to us and the defenders in the main cabin. Bodies fell as screams permeated the night. A torrent of footsteps indicated a trail the remaining attackers ran over through tree branches and over rough, rock strewn terrain.

  Morgan's deep bass voice cut through the still night. "Tom, Shane, is that you boys?"

  Shane hollered, "Yeah Morgan, it's us. Come on out and bring flashlights so we can see what we caught."

  I told our people, "Take cover behind trees, then turn your flashlights on the people we shot. Some of them might only be wounded and may shoot at your lights."

  Nine bodies were on the ground. As we cautiously approached, one man whipped his arm around toward us with a pistol in it. Shane and I shot him in unison and he flopped over onto his back after firing two shots wildly into the trees. That made seven dead and two seriously wounded.

  Morgan and his two sons, Morgan Jr. and Zeb reached us. By standing on our captives wounds to inflict the maximum pain, we learned their group came from thirty miles away and had attacked Morgan's camp previously. They both claimed the three or four that had escaped were their only members left. Morgan's boys shot both of the attackers and dragged them deeper into the undergrowth in the woods.

  Ira asked, "What do you think they were after?"

  "They want our site." Morgan laughed heartily. "If they'd waited a day or two we would have been gone and they could have walked in without a fight. People, ain't we something?"

  Verlie hustled out of the house and stood by Morgan. "Jesse got hit, in the side. I'm sure the bullet hit a rib."

  "I'll take a look at him," Ira said, "let me get
my bag."

  Verlie said, "I'll assist. I have O. R. nursing experience."

  Morgan said, "We heard shots that sounded like they might have come from down by the lake."

  Shane and I turned to Andrea. She stepped forward. "That was me. Our truck was parked outside my unit. I guess that's why they hit there first. A noise woke me as they worked to get the door open; my flashlight and pistol laid beside the bed. I held the light out to my left side when I turned it on. Two men in camo who I didn't recognize as your people stood inside the room. One carried a rifle and the other held a pistol in his hand. It was pointed in my direction, so I shot both of them. The guy with the pistol got one shot off, but he missed me."

  Morgan roared with laughter and slapped his palm on his thigh. "I like you lady. You're like my Verlie. You two are going to get along like beans and cornbread."

  Dawn would be lighting the sky soon, so we went back to bed and left Ira to tend to Jesse.

  At five-thirty in the morning we were all up. At six, breakfast was served in the main cabin. Andrea had been up earlier and was in the kitchen with Verlie and two of her granddaughters. It was apparent Ira and Verlie hadn't gotten enough rest, but both were up and moving. They could sleep on the drive back to Deliverance. The food was typical southern country style that tasted great and would sustain us for many hours. Glass from shot out windows that had littered the floor only hours earlier had been cleaned up. Bullet holes in the pockmarked walls couldn't be eliminated from sight so easily. Morgan said he and the boys would jury-rig a temporary chicken coop on a flat bed trailer. They intended to cram all of the fowl they could into it. Next to the coop, a temporary pig pen would hold about a dozen of the smaller hogs from their stock. While he and the boys caught animals, the rest of us packed their personal belonging and supplies into our trailer and a similar enclosed trailer of theirs. Although they tried to hide the tears, Verlie and her daughters and grandkids had red eyes and sad expressions. Being driven out of their home wasn't being taken lightly.