The Rabid Mind

by Bruce Buckshot Hemming

  Jim continued down the road, eventually turning off and making his way onto a dirt road. They found a little cul-de-sac of houses. Debbie knocked on all the doors, but no one was home. They picked a smaller house with a wood stove to set up for the night. As the hours passed by, Debbie and Jim got to know each other a little better.

  The following morning was foggy and cloudy. Before heading back on the road, Jim checked all of the houses for guns and ammo, finding a box of 50 .22 ammo and a half box of 12 gauge #8 shot for skeet shooting.

  An hour later, the sun broke through the clouds, burning the fog off. “Sun’s out, let’s go for it,” he said. They took off and got back on the main road. “I figure we’ll just blow through town as fast as we can and hopefully they will be hiding from the sun and we can get through.”

  They drove straight through town, seeing nothing more than the bodies they’d shot the day before.

  Recalling what happened the previous day, Jim asked Debbie, “What you know you about these Hives? Do they take over a town and do they travel?”

  “To be honest, I’m not sure. Our best guess was that they must be traveling from town to town at night. It’s likely they then take over the town, killing and feeding on whatever or whoever they can find.”

  “They can’t walk from town to town in one night, so where do they spend the day?”

  “The one Hive we hit was in a house along a side road. It certainly wasn’t a place one would expect to find them in such great numbers.”

  “That’s scary as heck that they’ve figured out how to group together and hunt. It must be some primitive survival skill, like wolf packs or rats. I’m not sure, but either way we need to find us a good redneck truck loaded with ammo and guns.”

  “If it was only that easy,” said Debbie grimly.

  “Yeah I know, but Hollywood always makes it seem so easy.”

  “Jim, let’s not forget this isn’t a movie. This is our reality.”

  “Don’t worry, I haven’t.”

  Just before reaching the city of Durango, they slowed down to get a better look at a house that was under siege. It was being attacked by a Hive. The survivors were shooting from the inside. Trees surrounded the house, providing the Hive with plenty of shade. The windows were boarded up and the door was barricaded.

  Jim kept driving and Debbie said, “It’s a shame we can’t help them.”

  “I know, but we don’t have much ammo and there are way too many crazy rampaging rabid Locos attacking…..,” Jim’s voice trailed off for a moment, “Wait, I have an idea. Can you hit a 20lbs. propane bottle at a hundred yards with your rifle?”

  “Sure, why?”

  “Here’s the plan. Look, see over there — there’s a 20 lbs. propane tank. There’s a tire shop not far away where we can get wheel weights and lug nuts. We’ll find a box, load it with the weights and nuts and strap it to the propane tank. We’ll also need to find a heavy piece of metal, like a metal plate of some sort. Then, I’ll drop you off about 100 yards away from the house. I’ll drive closer in front of the house and honk the horn to draw the infected towards the car. I’ll drive far enough so you can shoot the tank, blowing it up like a giant claymore, sending lead all over the place.”

  “What kind of stupid idea is that? You’ll get blown up with the car and I’ll be walking home alone from here on out.”

  “Oh, so the car’s more important than me?”

  “No, that’s not what I’m saying! Come on, you know what I mean.”

  Jim laughed, “Don’t worry; I don’t plan on being that close to the blast.”

  “Oh I see, so you’re going to run a suicide mission?”

  “What? You’re the one that said we had to help. It’s the only way I can think of that will kill most of them off.”

  “Okay, so what is the metal plate for?”

  “We’ll affix it somehow to the top of the tank and box. It will keep the majority of the blast from going up and force it out to the sides.”

  “Okay, but how big a blast do you think it will be?”

  He smiled, “Maybe 200 yards.”

  “And you want me at 100 yards shooting at it?” Debbie yelled angrily.

  “You said it’s a suicide mission. It’s not like we have a flamethrower or machine guns lying around to thin them out. It’s either that, or we keep driving.”

  They drove to the RV dealer where Jim had seen the propane tanks and grabbed one. They then headed over to the tire shop. In one of the bays they found a large cardboard box and put the propane tank in the center backside of the box. They proceeded to fill the box with wheel weights, nuts, bolts and anything metallic they could find. Jim searched out back for a piece of metal and found one at the lumberyard that backed up to the tire shop. The only large piece of metal he could find was a piece of metal roofing. As a bonus, he found old bags of concrete.

  “Okay, when we put it all together, we’ll put a couple of the old 80-pound bags of cement on top of the sheet of metal. The weight of the cement bags will hold it down. Some of the blast will still blow out of the top, but a majority of the blast zone should blow to the sides. Now all we have to do is mount it to the top, strap it all down and we will be ready.”

  Debbie asked, “Does the car have to be running?”

  Jim looked at Debbie confused. “Why would you ask that?”

  “Because I saw a Prius on the side of the shop and I thought we could use that instead of blowing up our only ride? If it isn’t running, we could tow it to the house. I thought I saw a small hill you could use to coast down to the front of the house. Maybe it would be safer for you because there would be less noise as you approach.”

  “That’s a great idea. We need a small car and one of those would be perfect.”

  Debbie laughed, “We could paint a peace symbol on it so the infected would think we come in peace.”

  Jim burst out laughing. “That would be perfect.”

  They went to the Prius and it wouldn’t start. Jim broke the steering column lock and put it in neutral. “That should work.” They found everything they needed between the tire shop and the lumberyard and it took them over an hour to set everything up, strap it all down in place and put on the finishing touches.

  Jim said. “Hang on,” and ran inside, returning with a can of spray paint.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Just watch.” He sprayed a big peace symbol on the part of the metal roofing that was bending down toward the front because of the rope straps.

  She laughed. “You’re a crazy nutcase.”

  He smiled like a kid. “A guy’s gotta have some fun. After all, it’s the end of the world. We come in peace. It’s just that they are thinking the wrong one. It’s a piece of hot, super-fast metal blowing them to pieces.”

  “Oh you are the devil. I love it!”

  The metal roofing was covering the back of the car, but just a little. The entire bottom half of the box was visible and Jim painted an “X” dead center where the propane tank was, so she’d have a good target.

  “See, I did have a real reason for grabbing the spray paint.”

  When they pulled out to head back towards the house, it was close to 4 p.m. in the afternoon, so they still had plenty of daylight left before they arrived at the house.

  “Okay, tow me to the top of the hill and I’ll unhook. Drive around to the back and then give me a push. When I start to roll, follow me down but stay back a little ways. The telephone poles are 100 yards apart. Drive just before the pole right before the house and turn sideways. Get out and get a good steady aim, using the roof of the car as a brace. Just make sure you give me enough time to get out of the blast zone. Don’t shoot too quickly because hopefully we’’ll get them to surround the car on all sides. I figure the main blast zone will be about 50 yards out from the car, so you want most of them in that zone, or as many as we can get before you blow it up.”

  They reached the top of the hill and it was time to unhook the tow rope.
Jim stopped, grabbed his 12 gauge and got out, motioning to Debbie to climb over and get into the driver’s seat.

  “Ready?” Jim asked.

  “Yep. Let’s make some fireworks.” Debbie smiled.

  Just to make sure they got the maximum effect from the explosion, Jim put a piece of rope down into the gas tank so it hung out, almost touching the ground and tossed away the gas cap.

  “Just don’t miss. I sure don’t want 200 ghouls chasing me for two days.”

  Jim climbed into the Prius. Debbie pulled behind him and inched forward until the bumpers touched. Jim gave her the “thumbs up” and she began pushing the Prius forward. Once she got up to about 20 mph, she hit the brakes. Jim coasted down the hill, gaining speed as he went. Piece of cake, Jim thought. He was getting closer and could see a few of the infected on the porch trying to get in. A shotgun blast from the house was keeping them at bay, at least for now.

  He coasted up to the front of the house, stopped the car and opened the door, pulling his 12 gauge with him.

  He expected the group of infected to charge him as he got out, but only one or two even looked his way. He looked up the hill and saw that Debbie had pulled broadside on the road and had the rifle barrel braced across the roof. He shrugged his shoulders and yelled, “I come in peace.” He grabbed the wooden handled snowbrush he had found on the floor of the backseat and jammed it between the horn and the seat.

  That got their attention. Jim looked up and a few of the infected were coming towards him. Jim took off running for the woods, but when he looked over his shoulders he saw that only about twenty were coming after him. It wasn’t enough. He waited until the first infected was about 10 feet away before shooting him down. The sound of the shotgun blast brought more of the infected his way, but not enough were paying attention to the car yet and more were going after him. Jim had to think fast and modify their plan, hoping Debbie would understand as he ran for the road and back up to her. He was praying in his mind that she didn’t shoot until he was at least half way there.

  He glanced over his shoulder and one of the infected was gaining fast. Damn, he wished they were slow moving Zombies like in the movies. He should have quit smoking. They always told him smoking would kill him; they just never explained how.

  Jim glanced again and the infected was too close, within reach of him. Jim whipped the shotgun over his left shoulder, took a guess at his aim, said a prayer and pulled the trigger. The noise was deafening and the shotgun pulled him forward as he swung it around, working the pump. This time when he looked back, he only saw a bloody, mangled heap lying where the infected had just been.

  As Jim hit the halfway mark, Debbie started shooting, but there was no explosion. He flinched, praying she hadn’t missed it. If she had, they were in trouble. What was plan B? They should have kept on driving.

  Jim raced up to the car yelling, “Hit the damn thing already!”

  Debbie yelled back, “I can’t! They’re getting in the way!”

  He ran around to far side of the car and noticed that the infected herd was now surrounding the booby-trapped car, attacking it. There were at least 20 on the backside.

  Jim was winded as he yelled, “Make it work soon, or we’re going to have to leave!” He knelt down and started shooting the infected that were following him and within his range. He could see Debbie shooting and the path that was forming to the trap as her bullets dropped them one by one. Finally, her last shot hit the box . . . but nothing happened.

  “I’m out.” she screamed.

  Now there were more than fifty of the infected between them and the car and over 150 surrounding the car.

  “Quick. Reload three shells and make sure one of them blows it, or we’re out of here.” He pulled out his .44 mag and yelled, “Hang on. I’ll try to clear you a path.”

  He proceeded to clear a path to the back of the car, using wad cutters slicing right through, taking out two or three with every shot. His fourth shot made the path clear and she fired one round, hitting the X dead center, but again nothing happened.

  “Shoot again,” he yelled and she fired, just as he dropped an infected as it rushed too close to the car. Suddenly, the fireball from hell erupted, launching flaming hot metal in every direction. A few seconds later, the gas tank explosion sent a firebomb high into the sky.

  “Get down,” he screamed.

  They ducked behind the car just as the blast hit them. They heard the metal slamming into the car, shattering the windows, and they could feel the heat rush over their heads. Her first shot had pierced the propane tank just enough for the high pressure gas to leak out, filling the box. Her final shot sparked on the tank, igniting hell on earth.

  Jim waited until the noise died down. He glanced over at Debbie, squatting behind the driver’s door.

  “Thought you said a hundred yards would be safe, Jim!” Debbie gave him an evil look.

  “Oh come now! You’re not going to bitch about it, are you? I mean look — you’re alive!” Jim tried not to laugh as he spoke back. He’d thought his plan was quite brilliant. From the looks of it, it had been a success.

  Debbie stood up and looked around, then noticed the window. A piece of shrapnel had gone clean through both sides of it.

  The front porch of the house was on fire. Jim turned towards the house and found himself speechless when he realized the devastation he had caused. It was a horrible sight. Hundreds of bodies had been instantly annihilated and torn to pieces. Unrecognizable appendages covered the vast area of the front lawn. Some could even be seen hanging off the trees.

  Just then a man ran outside, hitting the fire with an extinguisher. The fiery blaze was out in a matter of seconds. The man looked around in disbelief as he tossed the extinguisher off to the side and began walking around to the other side of the house. Jim noticed he pulled his pistol out. Seconds later, three shots were fired into air, signaling for people to come down the hill.

  Jim said to Debbie, “You’d better stay here with the car. I’ll walk down alone. I don’t think it’s a good idea to go driving over that shrapnel field. If it’s safe, I’ll wave you down. Make sure you bring the keys with you.”

  As Jim walked down, he reloaded the .44 magnum and the 12 gauge, just to be safe. As he reached the porch, he heard a voice. “I don’t know if I should thank you or cuss you out.” In the background, the Prius was still burning.

  Jim smiled, “I’m hoping you’ll thank us, sir.”

  Pointing to the remainder of the car, the man they had just saved asked, “What the hell was that anyway?”

  Jim replied, “A 20-pound propane bottle and about 200 pounds of wheel weights.”

  “I didn’t know what exactly you were up to, but I figured it couldn’t be good, so I moved everyone back just before the explosion.” He shook his head and continued, “Man that was a hell of a blast! You blew out all the windows on the top and bottom floors!”

  “I’m truly sorry. To be honest, I didn’t think the blast range would go that far.”

  The guy smiled, “Wish I could have seen it go off. You sure cleaned them out. Thank you for that.” He then stuck his hand out, “My name is Patrick and you are . . . Rambo?” He asked with a chuckle.

  Jim shook his hand saying, “No, it’s Jim.”

  “Well thanks again, Jim. How about you call your friend over there to come down here and I’ll introduce you to everyone.”

  “Thanks, but we’re in a bit of a hurry. We’re trying to find her children. They were last seen at the Flying J Ranch.”

  “We have a ranch hand inside that used to work in that area. Hold on while I call him out.” Patrick turned and yelled, “Kevin, come out here. This man has a question for you.”

  Kevin strolled out wearing blue jeans, a cowboy hat and a western shirt, with a black vest. Tipping his hat, he said, “Howdy. You sure do know how to make an entrance, don’t you?”

  Jim laughed, “Yeah, it was a little bigger than I thought it would be.”

 
“How can I help you?”

  “My friend and I are looking for her two children and, last she heard, they were taken to the Flying J Ranch by the state.”

  “The state? Why’d they take the children from her?”

  Jim was ticked off by the question, but thought he’d better play it nice. “It’s a long story, but she was falsely arrested and the children were put in foster care. By the time she found out where the kids were, the infection had started to take off and Denver turned into a war zone. Can you help us find the place?”

  “Sure can. I’ll even draw you a map. It’s only about an hour’s drive from here, maybe a little more. I was heading to Texas last fall, to my mom and dad’s place. I worked the ranch next to them. Good people. The owner had five ranch hands and plenty of guns and ammo, so I am sure they would have made it through okay.”

  “That’s great news. Can you draw me that map please?”

  “Sure,” said Kevin as he walked back into the house.

  Patrick smiled and said, “Would you like to stay the night and let us fix you dinner for saving us?”

  “Thanks, but my friend’s been trying to get to her children all winter and now that she knows where they are, and how to get there, there’s no way she’ll want to stay. No offense.”

  “I have children, so I totally understand.”

  Kevin walked out and handed Jim the map, explaining how to get to the ranch. Jim thanked him.

  Before they left, Patrick said, “Anything else we can do for you before you go Jim?”

  “You know what, we could really use some ammo. 12 gauge, .44 mag, .38 or .357.”

  “I think we can give you a box of 3-inch 12 gauge magnum BB loads for goose hunting, but we don’t have any pistol ammo. We have 9’s and .45s. Give me second, I’ll be back with it.”

  Kevin was curious and asked Jim, “Anything you can tell me about Durango?”

  Jim explained what he’d seen as he drove through. “By the way, Kevin, how far is the ranch?” Jim needed to be sure they had enough gas to get there and back.

  “Not too far. By the way, I marked a road to an old bunkhouse. I would stay there for the night, just to be safe. The ranch will be about 20 miles from there. You can drive in the morning. It’ll be about 5 miles off the highway. There should be gas at the ranch for you.”