by Hetzer, Paul
They set out from the armory, the day sunny and warm, at least compared to the past week, and the snow had mostly melted away except in areas that stayed in perpetual shadow on the mountainsides. The Humvee made good time down the highway, lacing its way through the scattered vehicles that littered the roadway like castoff reminders of an era long forgotten. In a little under an hour they were passing the small town of Lexington, Virginia, where the esteemed Virginia Military Institute had had its home. It was one of the areas they would avoid.
According to the Sergeant, the farm co-op was located along a lonely country road that could be reached off one of the next exits a dozen miles ahead. He didn’t expect any major confrontations with the crazies, as there had been no large human population concentrations in the area, mostly scattered farms and homesteads. Still, he told them, they should go in expecting the worst.
The Humvee pulled off the highway onto the two-lane road, which was relatively free of any abandoned vehicles. Within a mile the farm co-op building loomed on the side of the road on a large lot strewn with neatly arranged farm implements, fencing, posts, a propane filling center, and a multitude of other supplies that were needed to support the county’s farming community.
They pulled to the front of the building, shut down the engine, and sat in the vehicle, scrutinizing the store and the road for any crazy activity. Finally, Heinlich stepped out of the passenger door, rifle in hand while his hazel-colored eyes darted back and forth, searching for any movement. He motioned for the others to come out. Sarah slid out of the driver’s seat and Jeremy climbed over it behind her, both looking relaxed with their rifles slung tight at their chests over their load bearing vests.
“We’ll make this as quick as possible.” Heinlich’s gravelly voice became coarser, reflecting the tension he felt whenever things were going too smoothly. “Remember, the only things we want are vegetable seeds, any other shit for growing we can get locally.”
They approached the door to the co-op and saw their first sign that they weren’t the only people, or non-people, to have visited the store since the apocalypse. A concrete block had been thrown through the glass door, some time ago judging by the dried leaves that had blown through the opening. The Sergeant motioned for the others to go to condition one with their rifles and to turn on the lights attached to the firearms’ front rail. When they were ready, he led the way through the door, crunching the broken glass beneath his boots as he entered the dark interior.
The place had been ransacked with the much of the contents scattered on the floor and the shelving units overturned. They briefly surveyed the area from the doorway before continuing deeper into the windowless building, their lights tracing bright paths before them.
“Over there,” Sarah called, shining her light down an aisle that had held a bin of vegetable and flower seed packets which were now littering the floor around the empty metal bin. They hastily gathered everything they could find that was still intact, as many of the packs had been chewed through and their contents eaten by rodents. Still, they managed to stuff the satchel that Jeremy carried nearly full with undamaged packs of a variety of vegetable seeds. Heinlich then led them through the double doors to the attached warehouse where bulk sacks and containers of feed, seed and fertilizer were stored. Sarah grabbed a flatbed cart and they soon found several bags of sweet white seed corn, soybean, and winter wheat that the mice and rats hadn’t torn through yet, along with a couple of 50-pound bags of 10-10-10 fertilizer that Heinlich threw on the cart as an afterthought thinking that it was better to have it and not need it, even though he had said all he was going to scavenge was the seeds. Jeremy and Sarah together pushed the heavily laden cart out through the swinging double doors back into the main store and maneuvered it toward the main entry doors while the Sergeant cleared a path through the scattered merchandise with his boots.
The cart wouldn’t fit through the frame of the front door, so they left it sitting on the inside. Heinlich hefted one of the canvas sacks onto his wide shoulders and started through the door, suddenly freezing in his tracks and the bag slid to the floor with a thud. He fumbled for his rifle, his eyes locked on something outside the store. Sarah and Jeremy tried to see out past his wide, bulky physique into the brilliant light of the day, however, he effectively blocked their view. Jeremy quickly dropped his satchel and raised his rifle, stepping to the side of the door next to the Sergeant.
Sergeant Heinlich stared at the three men, crazies by the way they were scantily dressed and from the blood-tinged drool that hung from their lips. He loosened his rifle and brought it to bear on the closest of the creatures. The three crazies merely stood there at the rear of the Humvee glaring back at him. The lead one in soiled, tattered coveralls, sneered at the man, its eyes seeming to mock the Sergeant, and then it sprang sideways out of view with a speed that startled the man. In the blink of an eye, even before he could fire off a shot, the other two had vaulted off after the leader. Jeremy tried to peer through beside Heinlich and the Sergeant motioned him back inside, taking a step back deeper into the store himself. He held up three fingers then made a circular motion around his ear with a finger and then pointed outside. The boy and girl nodded in understanding.
Heinlich poked his head out around the doorframe and didn’t spot the three strange-acting crazies. He ducked back inside and made a motion that he had lost sight of them. Their actions confused him and had thrown him off of his game, causing him to pause when he should have fired. He had never encountered a crazy before that hadn’t launched itself at a human upon first contact. This was a totally new and unexpected reaction. He didn’t know what it meant, but he didn’t like it one damn bit at all. The enemy wasn’t supposed to change its tactics mid-fight, at least this enemy wasn’t. Where the fuck did they go? Were there more of them out there?
The Sergeant shouldered his rifle, took a deep breath, and stepped out into the daylight. He cautiously stepped away from the doorway while scanning the area through the ACOG scope attached to the top rail of his rifle. Behind him Sarah and Jeremy emerged, assuming defensive positions down each side of the building. The crazies seemed to have disappeared like a ghost through a fog.
“You two stay frosty, I’ll get the shit loaded in the back of the Humvee while you cover me.”
He immediately stepped back inside and shouldered two of the sacks, racing back to the Humvee where he threw them unceremoniously into the rear. It took him two more trips and under a minute he had the last of the supplies loaded.
“Come on, let’s—” he started to order when something hit him from above like a sack of concrete, knocking him hard to the ground. He saw two other shapes launch themselves off of the low roof of the building at Sarah and the boy. Then he lost sight of everyone. He hit the ground and rolled, trying to get away from what had hit him. He did a quick self-evaluation as he rolled and nothing felt like it was broken. He ended up on one knee next to the Humvee’s front driver’s wheel and pressed his back against the hard rubber. The thing stood up from where it had fallen after landing on him and in one fluid motion launched itself like a hunting cat onto him. It was the leader of the three that he had locked eyes with before. It snarled and collided with him, spraying saliva from its snapping teeth as it tried to take off a piece of the Sergeant’s face. Heinlich managed get his forearm up and into the throat of the creature forcing its head back and away from him. The thing landed a solid blow against his temple with a knotted fist, sending a bright burst of stars across his vision. The creature’s other hand found his ear and was trying to tear it from his head, causing tears of pain to flood his eyes.
With his own growl, the Sergeant pushed himself forward off of the tire, throwing the crazy backwards onto the gravel and landing on the thing’s chest with his thick forearm pressing deeply into the snarling creature’s windpipe, the man writhing wildly like a bucking bronco beneath him. He slid his free hand down to the handle of his M9 bayonet knife and slid it from its sheath. He put his full
weight onto the arm that was pinning the crazy to the ground as it fought viciously to free itself, clawing and pounding on the bull of a man on top of it. Heinlich rammed the seven inch blade to the hilt into the creature’s temple and gave it a hard twist for good measure. He felt its hot blood coat his hand in a wet, red gush and the crazy man went limp beneath him.
Jeremy saw the Loony in coveralls fall from the roof to crash into the Sergeant and glimpsed another dark shape as it launched off the roof toward him. He threw himself to the ground and rolled away, keeping his rifle pressed to his chest. The creature grazed his shoulder while he was dropping out of the way and the thing hit the ground with stunning force, knocking the breath from it in a loud whoosh.
The boy rolled onto his side facing the back of the stunned Loony and promptly freeing his rifle, fired several un-aimed shots at it. All three rounds found their target and he was rewarded with a kill shot when one of the bullets entered the back of its head and burst out through it nose in a messy spray of brain matter and blood. Through the ringing in his ears he heard Sarah’s shrill cries and immediately sat up. On the other side of the Sergeant, who was still fighting with his own Loony, Sarah lay with her back being ground into the gravel as a large mostly naked male was pressing down on her. Its grimy hands found her thin neck and wrapped tightly around it with its thumbs pressing cruelly into her windpipe, cutting off her breath in mid-scream. Her ragged fingernails drew bloody furrows down the creature’s sparsely bearded cheeks as she struggled to free herself from its killing grip. It completely ignored the pain as if it was no more than a mosquito sting while it hissed at her with a spray of spittle and forced its hands tighter around her throat. Jeremy jumped to his feet and sprinted toward them, rapidly closing the distance as the Loony lifted her head and slammed it repeatedly into the limestone gravel of the parking area. Bright red spots of blood blossomed on the back of her head through her silver-gold hair. Her face was turning an ugly purple and her eyes bugged out of their sockets from lack of oxygen.
Jeremy slammed bodily into the Loony while yelling for it to get off of her. It toppled sideways under him but retained its tight grip on the girl’s throat. Already her struggles were getting weaker. Jeremy freed his 9mm from its holster, pressed the barrel firmly into the man-creature’s ear and squeezed the trigger. The back of its head opened up like a watermelon from a firecracker and it jerked spasmodically under him as its lifeblood gushed from the wound in great gouts. Its fingers stayed locked like a vise on the windpipe of the now unconscious girl and when Jeremy couldn’t pry the fingers free he swiftly took out his knife, slit the tendons of the Loony’s thumbs, and the hands dropped free. With her windpipe again open, Sarah took in whooping breaths of air through her damaged throat. Her eyes fluttered open and slowly focused on Jeremy’s face.
“You saved me?” she croaked out before coughing hoarsely.
Jeremy nodded. “I’m sorry I was mad at you earlier,” he whispered to her and leaned in, kissing her on the cheek. He felt a strong hand on his shoulder and practically jumped out of his skin before hearing the familiar, rough voice of the Sergeant.
“We gotta get out of here. Let’s get her into the Humvee.”
Jeremy helped the Sergeant lift Sarah up and put her into the passenger seat of their vehicle. He jumped in behind her and as Heinlich started the vehicle and sped away in a spray of gravel while Jeremy applied a piece of folded gauze to the back of her head where the blue-chip gravel had caused a number of small cuts and abrasions. Sarah poured half a bottle of water down her painfully bruised throat before she was able to thank the boy in a hoarse, painful whisper.
Lamar pulled the Escalade off onto the center berm of the divided highway where a large weather-stained square of plywood had been conspicuously staked into the ground so it could be seen by anyone travelling south in either the northbound or southbound lanes. Painted on the wood in big black letters were the words: “READ IF YOU NEED HELP”. Attached to the bottom edge of the sign in a clear Ziploc plastic bag was a sheaf of paper with what appeared to be handwriting on them.
“Who you think be leavin’ a message like dat, Juice?” Roshawna asked, sitting casually beside him, her fat bulk overflowing the Escalade’s spacious seat. It was getting close to dusk and they had been discussing where to find a place to hole up for the night. It had been a long day filled with gathering fuel from some of the abandoned vehicles by knocking holes in their tanks and catching the precious gas that spilled out. They had spotted the sign as they carried on their destructive trek south and couldn’t resist stopping.
Lamar didn’t answer her question, only opened his door and stepped out. He motioned to his crew in the following vehicles to stay where they were, holding his piece in one hand in case there was any trouble. He walked up to the sign and tore down the gallon-sized bag that held the paper, opened it, and stared at the top sheet, then rifled through the rest. Each had the same handwritten message on it. The Virginia Army National Guard was establishing control in this area and anyone who needed food and safety would be helped. They were well armed and well supplied and would help protect anyone from the ‘crazies’ who volunteered to join up with them.
“Dey callin’ dem creepy-creeps crazies,” he muttered when he’d read the message. It gave directions to a safe compound a few miles ahead where once every day or so an Army unit would be by looking for refugees.
“Shit! The motha-fuckin’ Army huh?” Lamar said out loud to himself. He took one of the papers with the directions to the compound and threw the rest into the thick weeds that separated the north and southbound lanes of the highway. ‘What da fuck da Army doin’ way out heah? Dem niggahs probly hidin’ from da creepy-creeps, not fighten’ dem.” He nodded to himself, his mind finding that simple conclusion acceptable. “Nash’nal Guard huh? Ain’t even real Army.”
He walked back up to the Escalade while re-reading the letter. He looked back along the convoy and saw Crazy-8 hanging out the window of his truck and motioning ‘what’s up?’ with his hands. Lamar told him to get his ass down here and told Roshawna to get out too. Crazy-8 wasn’t real good at reading so Lamar read the letter to his two captains.
“What you think, cuz?” he asked after he finished.
Crazy-8 glanced up at the big sign then back at Juicy-Juice. “We low on bullets n dem gats they has wood sure be better’n wut we got.”
“Word up, dawg.” Lamar nodded his head in agreement.
Roshawna harrumphed loudly with her fists buried in her ample sides. “Yo! I hear you right? You two dumb nigga’s gonna go bangin’ agains’ the Army?”
“Shit. Ain’t no Army, woman. Bunch a punk-as wanna-bes all dey is.” Lamar thought the big homegirl had more balls than that. Maybe he should rethink making her a captain. “They got what we needs, n we gonna get what dey got.”
He told Crazy-8 to let the rest of the crew know they were going to be taking a detour, then climbed back into the Caddy with Roshawna.
“You gonna tell me how you gonna smoke a buncha Army dudes who gon’ be shootin’ back atcho black ass?” she asked in a haughty voice, her chin held high. “Man, you be trippin’!”
“Fuck dat shit, dis shit gonna be easy, like takin’ candy from a baby.” He scowled at her coldly and she glared back at him waiting to hear a plan. He leaned back in his seat and stretched his arms over his head, putting a plan together in his mind. He had never been afraid of five-oh and he wan’t about to be afraid of some raggedy group of weekend warriors.
“We roll up dere deep. They’s there, we ghost it n come back later. If’n they ain’t, we hide the rides and go in strapped n wait. They come in won’t be spectin’ shit. We pick our time n come out n bus-caps n all ‘em, no half-steppin’, we fade all dey punk-asses.” It sounded like a simple no-lose plan to him, they could even lead those two cracker-whores out first to add to the confusion. “Maybe we even gets some Army trucks for our wheels.”
“You one hardcore crazy niggah,” Roshawna said
to him, although she was smiling this time. She had decided weeks back that she really liked killing, and his plan sounded like a straight-up chance to fuck up some people.
Lamar started the Escalade and pulled back onto the highway, heading south toward the exit where the paper said they would find the compound with all its supplies and an opportunity for his crew to become Army strong.
It was slow going since they had left the house earlier that morning. Kera’s knee was still painfully swollen and useless for her to walk on. After splinting it and using the last of the melting snow to control the swelling they had swapped ideas on how to move her. Kera had only wanted a couple of makeshift crutches that she said could be thrown together from items in the house but Steven explained to her that using a set of poorly fitted and constructed crutches would cause her more problems than it would solve. The group finally decided to use a wheelbarrow they had located in a shed behind the house. They lined it with bed pillows and a blanket and put Kera, who was protesting the entire time, into it. They had also liberated a shopping cart from the Target parking lot the evening before they were to carry on with their journey and planned to use it to pile their myriad supplies in, abandoning the now useless toboggan in the backyard.
Steven pushed the wheelbarrow while Dontela drove the cart ahead of her. Katherine and Angela walked hand in hand quietly behind them. Katy now carried the short-barreled carbine that had once belonged to Holly. After the attack at the house by the Loonies, she would not be parted from it. The last traces of the liberal in her had been quashed by the massacre at the house and she would never view guns as anything except a tool of necessity again. Angela had retreated into some safe area of her mind after the attacks and barely spoke to any of them, usually answering questions with a shrug of her shoulders or a nod or shake of her head. The tears also came more readily. In the end they would have to wait and see if the experience would make or break the little girl.