Just as I hit the back door, I could hear the crack of a rifle on the other side. I opened the door cautiously and saw Duncan standing his ground against about ten zombies that were advancing his way. A small zombie was at his feet, a neat bullet hole near the top of its forehead.
“’Bout time,” Duncan said, trying to keep an eye on all the zombies headed his way.
“You’ll thank us in a minute,” I said. “Nate, would you care to take the left and I’ll take the right?”
“That’s so kind of you, thank you,” Nate said, tightening his grip on his weapon.
“My pleasure.” I stepped out into the lumberyard and approached a female zombie. She looked fairly rank, her grey skin contrasting with her dark, greasy hair. Her torso was uncovered and she looked like she must have had implants at some point. You could always tell on a zombie. I readied a two handed hold and when she came within striking distance, I struck with as much power as I could muster. The blade connected at the point where her shoulder met her neck and completely cut her in half. One part had the head and an arm, the other part held the rest. The two pieces landed about a foot from each other, with the head still snapping and the arm still reaching.
Duncan whistled. “Now that is a tool! I don’t normally get excited about weapons of Z destruction, but I definitely felt something stir just now.”
Tommy said nothing, he just edged a little further away from Duncan.
Nate and I went to work, hacking zombies from single pieces to several and the heavy blades made the job easy. I took a direct approach, lopping off heads to spiking the brain from the top, while Nate was more artistic in his approach. He would cut a zombie off at the knees, literally and then try to spear the head as the Z fell. The best was when we both swung at the same zombie. I was off target by a bit and caught the Z in the mouth, burying the blade into his skull to his ears, his teeth pinging off the metal. Nate came from the other side and crushed the ghouls spine with the straight edge.
We looked about our vanquished foes with what had to be the same sort of satisfaction knights felt when they had emerged from the battlefield victorious.
I wiped off the blade as best as I could and made a run for the side of the building. Angling out so as not to be caught by a Z close in, I saw the coast was clear. Signaling to the others, we rounded the corner just as the zombies from the inside of the building came crashing through the supply room door.
“Perfect,” I said. “So much for the delay.”
“Just keep moving,” Nate said. “It wasn’t supposed to keep them all day.”
Peeking around the corner, I could see a clear path to the RV. That was the good news. The bad news was there were a lot of zombies milling about that were closer to the RV than we were and could easily cut us off if they saw us.
I held a quick conference. “I’m going to distract the ones near the RV. When the coast is clear, get aboard and come get me.”
Nate nodded. “Duncan, you and Tommy get on the roof and give John cover. I’ll get the beast moving.”
Tommy and Duncan unlimbered their rifles and made sure they were ready to go. Nate pulled out the keys and made sure he had them ready as well. I wasn’t sure what I was going to do to distract the Z’s, but as with most of my plans, I’d make something up as I went along.
Running out onto the parking lot, I beheaded a nearby zombie and started yelling in a falsetto voice. “Oh, help me! Help me! The zombies are after me! Whatever shall I do? Wherever shall I go? Help me! Help me!” I’ll admit most of this was for the benefit of my companions, who showed their appreciation by shaking their heads and rolling their eyes.
All of the zombies that were outside the garden center turned my way and gladly decided to offer some assistance. As a matter of fact, I was sure they would be most willing volunteers. I walked a little ways away, scanning the crowd for any fast-moving young bastards, then jogged easily away. The zombies, being of the staggeringly stupid variety, followed along, hoping I might trip and somehow break my legs and arms.
I ran down the street, passing a trailer sales yard and as I did, a large zombie stumbled out from between the sales office and display model. He was a little over six feet tall, but he looked larger because he was wearing a heavy winter coat. One of the arms was torn open and trailed some downy filler out of the tear. His vacant eyes locked onto me and he shuffled out with a purpose. I could see the RV pulling out of the Garden Center and it was amusing to see several zombies get knocked aside as the RV swept past.
But my immediate concern was the big son of a buck barreling down at me from the side. I hefted the billhook, then changed my mind. “You’re too big to chance it, Frosty,” I said as I pulled my SIG. One shot later and the big Z fell over like an axed sapling.
The RV pulled up and I hopped on board, taking Duncan’s rifle as he handed it down to me from the roof. A minute later Tommy joined us and I went to sit in the front seat, only to stand up again as a pissed off cat snarled and tried to claw my ass.
“Jesus, Zeus!” I said, managing to blaspheme in two religions.
Nate laughed. “The little shit did the same thing to me. Ought to toss him overboard.”
“Should have sent him home with Janna.”
“Right. A cat on a boat. Great idea for cosmic harmony.”
“Blow me. Where the hell are we?” I reached behind me and ignoring the kitten fangs in my hand, grabbed a handful of feline and shoved him into an overhead bin. I nursed a particularly long scratch and pawed through the maps until I found West Virginia. Following a line I had drawn earlier, I placed us…
“Virginia. We’re in Virginia,” Nate said from the driver’s side.
“How do you know?” I said.
“Because the sign I passed said ‘Welcome to Virginia’. You think they put those up as a ruse and we’re really in New Jersey?” Nate said sarcastically.
“How would I know what they do out east? They’re all nuts.” I reflected for a minute. “At least, they were.”
We drove on for a while, working our way slowly through the backcountry. Virginia is a different kind of state. It is liberally covered in pine forest and driving through it you start to feel constricted and claustrophobic. The trees grew right next to the road and many times we had to swerve out of the way of large branches that had the potential to crack the RV something fierce.
We passed a lot of zombies and a couple of places looked like they might have once held survivors, but were now overrun by the dead. One small building had dozens of bones scattered about, bleaching quietly in the warm sun. There was no indication of any violence, save the bones.
We passed through Winchester and had to resort to ghost driving once again. The big RV inched through the town, nudging Z’s out of the way, travelling roughly one mile an hour. I was navigating from the darkness of the RV while Nate steered from the floor. I didn’t see any signs of life, although I did see a large concentration of zombies near the airport, usually a sign that something might still be alive in there. We couldn’t offer to help, since there were probably three thousand ghouls congregated there. Even in our little RV tank they had the numbers to really ruin our day. I made a small vow to do whatever I could later to help everyone who was surrounded by the dead, holding on to whatever small hope there was that someone, anyone, might be able to help.
Outside of Winchester, away from the main population centers, I called a halt and we pulled over under the protective canopy of a gas station. Nate and I checked for fuel while Tommy and Duncan checked for unwanted attendants and supplies. The gas station was tucked into a little clearing of trees and the forest was thick enough that we couldn’t see into it very far, nor could we see the road any more than what was ahead of us.
Nate and I were both pleasantly surprised to find a decent amount of gas left over. Most places we checked actually had plenty of fuel. People in the Upheaval didn’t want to waste time getting gas in their flight from the dead, they just wanted to get away. We ma
naged to top off the tanks and fill three jerry cans as well.
As I put the cans away and checked the bungee cords on our outside supplies and weapons, I became aware of a noise coming from the road. I leaned over and spoke to Nate, who was checking our hoses and lines for leaks.
“You hear something?” I asked.
“No, you’re imagining things.” He paused. “Wait, I hear it, too. What is it?” Nate pulled himself out from under the RV and looked around.
Tommy and Duncan walked out of the convenience store carrying handfuls of beef jerky and bottled water. They looked at each other and then wandered over to where we were.
“What’s that sound?” Duncan asked around a stick of beef jerky protruding from his mouth.
“I’m not sure,” I said, helping myself to a piece of jerky. “Sounds like a lawn mower, but that can’t be right. No one would be dumb enough to fire one of those up.”
“Whatever it is, it’s getting closer,” Nate said. “I suggest we see what comes of it inside our little fortress?”
We all agreed and climbed back into the RV. Four faces looked out the front window as the sound came closer and closer. We quietly discussed what the sound was. I stuck with lawn mower, but Nate said it was too high pitched. Tommy said go-cart and Duncan was convinced it was some sort of six-wheeled contraption.
Whatever we thought did not prepare us for the sight that eventually showed up. Rounding the bend and coming into view was a John Deere riding mower. It was being driven by a stocky man chewing what might have been a cigar. He was going about two miles an hour and he was being chased by a horde of at least forty zombies. They lurched and stumbled along at roughly the same speed, neither gaining nor losing ground. The grim parade traversed our line of sight and then disappeared on the far side of the clearing. The man never once looked our way. The noise was the combination of the riding mower and the incessant moans of the zombies.
I looked at the empty space for a full minute, listening to the receding procession before turning to my companions.
Tommy spoke up first. “I got nothing,” he said, still staring out the window.
Duncan shook his head. “Never saw a zombie pied piper before.”
Nate frowned. “Shit, no one’s gonna believe this.”
I tended to agree with Nate. “Okay. Well, that’s new. On to other business.” I turned to my crew members and got serious. “I want to propose a side trip. I’m going to make it a vote, since we’re getting close to D.C. and we’ve already had a stressful day.”
Curious faces looked into mine as I continued. “Just up the way from here is a small town. It’s not much, just a few small stores and a couple of subdivisions. Its probably ten miles out of the way, round trip.”
“What’s there?” Tommy asked.
I looked out the window at the road in front of me. “My parents’ house.”
I glanced back at the silent faces and wasn’t surprised Nate was the first to speak up. “Hell, man. You sure you want to do that? You might have to put them down—could you do it?”
I shrugged. “If I had to. My point is we’re this close and I couldn’t go back to my brother and tell him I didn’t have the heart to check on our parents. We’re assuming they’re dead. What if they’re alive? I need to know one way or the other, but I am willing to leave it up to a vote.”
Duncan shook his head. “Don’t be stupid, bro. If it was us you’d make sure we knew, one way or the other. We owe you this at least, dude.”
Tommy nodded. “Let’s take a look. What could it hurt?”
I reminded myself again why I surrounded myself with such men and it was in times like these that I really knew what my friends were made of.
“Thanks, guys,” I said.
“Shut up and tell me how to get there,” Nate snarled kindly, tossing me a map.
I didn’t need a map, having been here many times before. “Take 340 to Boyce, then head south on State Road 723. First right past Country Club Lane, that’s their road.”
“Will do.”
I left the front of the RV and went to the supply cabinet. I unpacked my backpack and repacked it, making sure to take a couple sticks of the new jerky. I pulled out my M1A, checked the action, then loaded a couple of magazines. I pulled the magazines from my belt for my SIG and checked those as well, surprising myself when I found that two of them were only half full. I topped them off and then checked the action on my SIG, chambering a round and uncocking it before re-holstering it. I checked the edge of my knife and finding it less than what I wanted, I pulled a sharpener and gave it an edge I approved of.
I replaced the knife, checked my vest, and made sure I had matches, some paracord, my compass and a couple of flares.
Once everything was in place, I looked over at the table where Tommy and Duncan were cleaning their guns. Both of the men were staring at me.
“What?”
Tommy broke into a grin. “It’s okay to be nervous, John. If I was going to check on my parents two years after the zombie apocalypse, I’d be nervous too. Are they alive, are they dead, are they even there? Too many ‘what-ifs’. But I understand it. My parents were killed in the first few months. Duncan’s caught the virus. We know. Maybe you’ll be lucky.”
I nodded. “Maybe. But I have to steel myself to the possibility that I may have to put them down. I cannot hesitate. I have to convince myself they aren’t my parents anymore, that what made them my parents is gone forever, replaced by a man-eating fiend.”
Duncan laughed. “Geez, when you put it that way…”
I joined the laughter and we all waited for Nate to tell us we were there. I was a mess of conflicting emotions. I wanted to know what happened to my parents, yet at the same time, there was comfort in not knowing, in nurturing the far-flung hope that somehow, someway, they were alive and surviving. It wasn’t outside the realm of possibility. Dad was a former Marine, after all, and would have paid attention to the signs that the world was coming apart. He had enough friends and contacts from his days in the service that he might have actually stood a better chance than most.
Thinking about my father brought back a lot of memories, some of them not so great. I remembered the arguments we used to have about the Marines. He wanted me to join, I didn’t want to, told him there were no more honorable wars to fight. He argued service itself was an honor and why didn’t I love my country? In the end we agreed to disagree and he eventually came to realize that my becoming a teacher was serving the country as well, just in a different way.
The more I mulled over the situation, the more I began to convince myself that maybe they might still be alive. Dad was a crack shot and was more than prepared for an invasion. I used to kid him about his End of the World as We Know It preparations, but now it seemed like he was receiving signals well ahead of the rest of us.
“Heads up, kiddies!” Nate called from the front. “We’re about a minute out.”
I stood up and went to the front to guide Nate to the house. “The road ends in a circular cul-de-sac, my parents’ house will be the farthest one on the left.” I watched the familiar trees pass by, the one with the crooked branches and the one that grew through an old stock fence left to rust. Two seasons of uncleared brush and leaves covered the old road and Nate nearly drove off more than once. But we made it and Nate pulled up to my parent’s home unopposed.
Tommy and Duncan swung out first, checking the area for roamers and unhelpful neighbors. The house sat in the midst of several trees, a small cabin-like home with a wrap-around porch. On the east side of the house was the garage door and on the west was a sun room my mom had my dad put on years ago. I remembered spending my summer nights sleeping “outdoors” in that sun room with my brother. We’d chat until the early hours, until our dad came down and slept with us to make sure we were quiet. Good memories. We’d moved to Illinois later, but returned to Virginia after Dad got fed up with the taxes. I wound up returning to Illinois for school and stayed when I met Ellie.
Nate, Tommy and Duncan all nodded and I stepped up to the porch. I could see the windows had been reinforced from the inside, indicating my father had taken the same precautions I had, once upon a time. I knocked on the door, feeling somewhat ridiculous, but it seemed like the thing to do.
Not getting an answer, I tried the handle and found it locked. I walked to the farthest window, reached above the frame, and retrieved a key my father kept there for emergencies. I opened the door and had my SIG at the ready, just in case.
The house was neat and tidy and besides a covering of dust, I couldn’t see anything that would indicate what happened. There wasn’t any sign of a hurried exit or any kind of violence. If I had to make a comparison, it was like returning to a summer cabin after a long winter away.
The only clue I got as to what may have happened was when I looked in on the office and saw a page of notes my father had made when he was doing some research. It was covered with bits of advice, like ‘head shots only’, ‘watch sense of smell’, etc. I had a flashback to my own research when I was holed up with Jake trying to figure out how to deal with the enemy.
When I went upstairs, I found several things out of place. My father’s closet was open and looked like several pieces of clothing were missing. My mother’s closet was untouched. I began to get a bad feeling and it was heightened by a grave I noticed when I looked out the window into the back yard.
I was on my way down to check it out when I passed by my brother’s room. On the pillow on his bed was an envelope with Mike’s name on it. I recognized my father’s precise script and tucked the letter into my pack to give to my brother. I quickly checked my old room and found a similar letter addressed to me. My guess is our dad figured if we ever made it back, if things returned to normal, we’d at least understand what happened here if he could just let us know.
I opened the letter and was surprised to find my hand shaking. Inside was a single handwritten note:
Dear John,
United States of the Dead - 04 Page 12