America the Dead wfotd-3

by Joseph Talluto

  Once they were quieted down, three men stationed themselves onto a picnic table that had been moved close to the truck. The men pointed their weapons at the canvas walls of the truck. There were several shrieks from the women.

  Thorton spoke again. “If anyone resists, these men open fire. If anyone tries to escape, they open fire. If any of my men is harmed, they open fire. If I am displeased by anything, they will open fire. Do you understand?”

  Defeated, there were several nods of agreement. Thorton smiled. “I’m glad we understand each other.” He stepped forward and grabbed the arm of the girl he had picked earlier. There was a moment of anger that passed over her eyes, but she looked at the truck and submitted without a word. “You’re with me. Consider yourself fortunate. I’m real kind to those who like me.”

  Thorton dragged the girl over to the nearest house and called over his shoulder “First squad, take the north side of town, find anything that we can use. Second squad, you’re up for weapons and food. Third squad, you get to go first.”

  There were whoops of joy at this proclamation and some groans. But louder than both were the cries from the women who were chosen to service the conquerors. Women were dragged into nearby homes, businesses and alleyways to be assaulted. Clothing was ripped off, backs bent over counters and chairs, while hands clawed at the dirt, the floor and bedcovers. Death and pain had come to Lomar.

  When one squad was finished, another would begin, so each woman was raped not once, but at least twice. The prettier ones were raped several times, leaving them broken when the men were finished. Supplies were stolen from homes, ammunition hordes were confiscated and useful tools were taken. Cries sounded from the truck in the center of town, scared children who just wanted their mothers and were forced to hear their parents’ screams of pain and humiliation. The men who guarded the truck taunted the children, pointing out to them cries that could be their parents and laughing at the screams of rage and terror.

  In the morning, the soldiers brought the women back to the center of town, many of them trying to hold their dignity together with strips of clothing. The mothers ran to the truck and their children were released to them. Tears of joy and concern flowed from both mother and child. The soldiers jeered at the children and women, then aimed their attention at another atrocity. Around the square, from various branches of the cottonwood trees, swayed the bodies of the surviving men. Thorton had the idea to hang them, tying a rope around each man’s throat and lifting him a few feet off the ground.

  Thorton was in a good mood. He had enjoyed himself thoroughly with his own prisoner and had left her tied to the bed he had raped her in. Since he had slowly broken her neck as a parting gift, she was in no condition to complain.

  Thorton had his men mount up and as they pulled out of the town, he had the gate torn apart. He then set fire to the first row of homes near the gate. As the flames climbed high, black smoke rolled up in the morning breeze, sending a huge plume of black smoke up into the lightening sky.

  That ought to attract a few zombies to this place. Thorton thought to himself as the truck rolled out east. He couldn’t care less about the survivors of his assault on the town. He had been satisfied and he had caused a great deal of misery on other people. It had been a good night. The fires backlight the trucks, throwing red onto the faces of the men who bothered to look back. They were unaware of the hate-filled eyes that followed them, tearfully damning them for what they had done. It was a look that would repeat itself again and again.

  Ken Thorton stretched in the cab and looked out the window. The sign that welcomed him to Kansas had no idea what kind of devil it was inviting to visit.

  14

  BLAM!

  “Jesus, Nate. He’s right there.”

  BLAM!

  “You know, he’s not even moving.”

  BLAM!

  “C’mon, Nate. The guys are watching.”

  BLAM!

  “Finally! When was the last time you fired a gun?” I stepped over to the railing that Nate had rested his rifle on and peered at the scene across the waterway. A mother and her son had been treed by a roaming zombie and they were well on their way to dying in one form or another when we happened across the situation. Nate had decided to ride to the rescue and steadied himself for what should have been a single shot. The zombie had been only fifty yards away, an easy shot for any of my crew. But Nate, living as he had been with the community and spending his days training, seemed to have let his firearms skills lapse.

  Nate stood up from his rest and glared at me. “I’m not sure when I may have shot last, but I’m gettin’ a good idea as to when I’m shootin’ next.” He threw a single finger salute to the rest of the crew, who were standing over by the RV.

  I laughed to ease the tension as Tommy came over to where I was standing and watched as the pair climbed down from the tree. I had my own rifle at the ready in case any other zombies had been attracted by the shots. The mother and son went to the small canal’s edge and drank deeply, likely their first drink in a couple of days. When they finished, they returned to their vehicle, threw us a wave and drove quickly off. They knew that shots were likely drawing more undead to the area, so it was better to keep moving and get to a safer place.

  I returned the wave and continued to watch the treeline.

  “Four shots,” was all Tommy said.

  “Yep,” I replied.

  “You could have nailed him with your SIG, couldn’t you?” Tommy asked as he tossed a small stick into the water.

  “We all could have,” I sighed. Long range pistol shots was something we had practiced, the logic being you never knew what kind of situation you might find yourself in, with or without your rifle. You just had to know your gun, know your sights and adjust accordingly. Charlie had gone to the trouble of notching his front sight, marking the lines where he could make thirty, forty and fifty-yard shots. Past that, it was a game of artillery with a semi-auto.

  In this case, it was about forty yards from where we stood to where the zombie had been. In a way it worried me a little, but a logical part of me realized that Nate was just out of practice, that he would regain his skills the longer we were on the road.

  At least that was what I hoped for as I headed back to the RV. I climbed aboard and plopped myself down at the kitchen table which had a few maps on it and a couple of legal pads with pens tucked in them.

  Duncan came in behind Tommy; he had been poking around a small group of houses just up the way. He was carrying a lumpy garbage bag and at my raised eyebrow he let me know what he found.

  “Trade goods,” he said with a grin.

  “Really? What kind?” Trade items were always welcome. We had found that having needed items went a long way to establishing good relationships with communities that might be more isolated than others. In a way, I felt like early explorers coming into contact with native tribes.

  “Charmin.”

  “Oooo… nice. Save a few rolls for us, hey?” Toilet paper was a very valuable commodity.

  “Already have. I’ll stash this stuff in the back locker.” Duncan worked his way to the back of the RV and disappeared out of sight.

  I opened up my map and felt the RV start up. Nate was driving and I was pretty sure he didn’t want company. I think he might have been embarrassed by his shooting, but it was something he was going to have to come to terms with. If it didn’t improve, I was going to have a hard time trusting Nate to cover me in sticky situations. With the rest of the crew, there was no doubt. We all knew our rifles inside and out, we knew what ammo they worked best with and we knew exactly what the bullet drop rate was for them. Same thing with our pistols. It wasn’t a pride thing, it was survival. Above our makeshift shooting range back at the Rock, Charlie had posted a sign that read, “What if you only had one shot to save your friend’s life?” We took it seriously. I guess in the safer communities, you tended to forget the things that go drag in the night.

  Tommy sat down across from
me and peered over the maps. I handed a notepad to him and said, “We need a route through Ohio, away from major cities and roads.”

  He nodded. “Roger that. Duncan show you what he found?”

  “Toilet paper, right?” I didn’t look up from my map of Indiana.

  “No, he found a radio too.”

  I looked up. “What kind?”

  “Portable short wave. Got its own hand crank generator. Looks like an emergency one.”

  “That’s cool. We’ll have to see if we can reach anyone with it.”

  “Yeah, we’ll try that later. How are we headed?” he asked.

  I was figuring on staying with Route 30 if at all possible, since it skirted most of the major cities. It would drop us off in Baltimore, which would allow us a short jog into DC.

  Tommy looked over his maps. “If we stay on 30 through most of Ohio, we could head south and pick up 40, which would take us straight to DC.”

  That sounded better than my plan. “Major cities?” I asked.

  “A few, but it seems to roll around pretty well. You know, it’s funny,” Tommy said.

  “What’s that?” I asked, taking a quick drink from my water bottle.

  “I never really realized how many small towns there are out there until we started going over these maps. I mean, there’s a lot of people out there,” his hopeful expression turned dark. “A lot of zombies too, I reckon.”

  I shook my head. “Worry about it when they’re in front of you, not before.”

  Tommy shook his own head. “You’re right.” He glanced forward. “Gonna talk to Nate soon?”

  I scooted out of the seat and picked up my pad. “Right now, as a matter of fact.”

  I went up to the front of the RV and sat in the copilot’s seat. Nate glared ahead as he navigated his way out of Ford Heights, a real crap hole of a place even without the zombies. Boarded up homes were everywhere, garbage all over the place. Several dead men stumbled out of buildings, but they could have been live junkies for all the difference it would make.

  I handed a piece of paper to him and he grunted as he took it. I decided on a different tack.

  In my best Darth Vader voice, I said “When I left you I was but the learner, now I am the master.”

  Nate, a die hard Star Wars fan, couldn’t stop himself from grinning. “You’re a real smart ass, you know that?” I could see dozens of cars stalled out on the road as we passed under Route 396 and a line of cars backed up to the highway. Interstate 80 was up there and it was as useless to us as rubber bullets.

  I grinned. “Gee, you think?” I swiveled in the chair and tapped his arm. “Stop here.”

  Nate slowed the vehicle down. “Why here?” he asked. One side of the street was wooded with a few homes tucked away. On the other side was a small strip mall, with a copy pace and restaurant taking up most of the space.

  I checked the mirrors and headed for the side door. “Check it out. Gun shop by the pizza place and the nail salon.” I pointed to the small store nestled in between pepperoni and pedicures.

  “All right,” Nate said. “I need some back-up ammo, if you find any.”

  “Will do.”

  I nodded to Tommy to follow me and motioned for Duncan to cover us from the roof. We left the RV and scooted over the road to check out the small business. We avoided the cars in the lot and headed straight to the store. The front window had been smashed in and the door was broken as well, so I didn’t think we’d find anything, but it never hurt to look.

  I picked up a chunk of glass and tossed it into the store, hoping to stir any waiting Z’s. Not hearing anything, I nodded to Tommy and went in first, SIG already out. The store was very narrow, barely ten feet wide. The counter area ran the length of the store and took up almost all usable space. Every case had been smashed in and there was dried blood on some of the glass, indicating that people had been desperate enough to smash the case with their bare hands.

  The cases were empty as were the ones on the wall. We moved farther back and that’s when Tommy nudged me and pointed to the door that led to the back room. A pair of feet were stretched out, with the rest of the corpse still hidden. I moved closer and took a quick look in the back area and saw it was a really small gun range.

  Bet the neighbors loved that, I thought, looking around the corner at the owner of the feet. He was a black man, about six feet tall, but his age was impossible to determine. He had been shot three times in the chest, likely trying to defend his business from looters. He was still wearing a holster, which based on the shape, once held a Government Model 1911. A quick glance around the office showed a lot of scattered papers, but nothing of value.

  I stepped out and shook my head at Tommy, who nodded and started back to the door. He took two steps then stopped, staring at something near the floor of the display cases.

  I tapped him on the shoulder, but he crouched down and pulled at a handle partially hidden under the lip of the case. A drawer came out and we were excited to see a bunch of different magazines for various guns. Tommy put about ten AR-15 mags in my backpack and I put a bunch of Glock and SIG magazines in his. We moved down the row of cases, pulling out the hidden drawers. We found gun cleaning kits, animal calling lures and a bunch of adult magazines. In the last drawer we found some ammo, but not a lot. There was two boxes of. 223, one box of. 38’s and three boxes of. 45 acp. We took it all, figuring to trade the bullets we didn’t need for stuff we could use.

  My pack was full, so I carried the ammo in my left hand, keeping my right free to use my gun. Tommy and I scrunched our way through the broken glass and out into the parking lot. We threw a wave to Duncan on the roof of the RV and scampered over. Rounding the front of the RV, we ran smack into a trio of zombies.

  These guys must have come through the woods to check out the shiny intruder to their world. They were about the same age, roughly teens and looked relatively fresh. In the back of my mind I figured these guys had been surviving until one of them got sick and infected the others. At the sight of Tommy and myself skidding to a halt, the trio groaned loudly as one and advanced on us.

  I threw my gun up and shot the nearest one in the face, snapping his head back and dumping him to the ground. Tommy shot the next one just as quickly, pausing for a microsecond to aim his shot. A dark hole appeared in the forehead of the ghoul and its’ dead eyes rolled up into its head as it collapsed. I was lining up the third for a shot when a rifle cracked from the roof of the RV, hammering the last one to the ground with a blown-out skull. Apparently, Duncan wanted a piece of the action, too.

  We climbed aboard and Nate quickly got us under way. A few dozen zombies were climbing out of homes and businesses, making their way over to our position. I personally didn’t like the odds, so we beat the hell out of there.

  I put the ammo into our storage locker and went back to sit next to Nate. I handed him a box of. 38’s and he grinned like a kid at Christmas.

  “Hey, thanks! I didn’t think you’d find anything in there.” Nate exclaimed happily, losing his previous funk.

  “No problem,” I said. “Actually got some for the AR’s and a 1911, if we ever find one.”

  “Trade it, if someone wants it.”

  “There is that. What town is next?”

  “Check the map. I didn’t live here.”

  “Lazy grouch.” I blocked Nate’s swing at my head and opened up the map and looked it over as we passed a few subdivisions. I didn’t need to see the tattered white flags to know this area was as dead as the next. Empty homes and empty cars told the tale as loudly as a concert. This close to the city, these people didn’t have a chance once the Z’s spread out. Once again, I was amazed that we had managed to survive the worst of the Upheaval, although the trio we just killed was a potent reminder that this conflict was far from over.

  Looking quickly at the map and getting my look-see bearings, I figured we were about to cross the Illinois/Indiana border into Dyer. I flipped the road atlas to Indiana and checked for
the population of town to get an idea of what we might be heading into.

  I looked at the number and winced. Over fifteen thousand. I exhaled and Nate looked over at me.

  “Fifteen thousand,” I said.

  “Great.”

  “I’ll tell the guys,” I said as I headed to the back areas. Duncan was sharpening a knife and Tommy was still looking over a map. They both looked up as I cam into the kitchen area.

  “Dyer up ahead,” I said. “Population was fifteen thousand.”

  “What about now?” Duncan asked, sheathing his blade.

  “We’ll know in a minute. Heads up,” I said, taking my carbine out of its place and checking the camber.

  They both retrieved their long guns and readied themselves on both sides of the RV. I went back up to the front and positioned myself next to Nate. A thoughtful gent had made a portal in the windshield which could be opened to allow front firing. It saved me the trouble of trying to lean out the side window and possibly get grabbed from behind.

  We followed Route 30 as it wound around a bend and straightened out. Slowly coasting down a small hill, we eased into the center of Dyer, which had several roads intersecting in one place, making for a huge intersection. Brick buildings surrounded us and there were a couple of state-line cigarette shops within view, as well as a gas station. The road we wanted to head down was directly ahead, down a hill and under a viaduct.

  Unfortunately, that road was occupied by about a thousand zombies, whose heads turned as one to see the big vehicle lumbering through their town.

  Nate and I ducked down and I signaled to Tommy and Duncan in the back to get out of sight. Zombies will be attracted to movement, but if they don’t see or smell prey, they aren’t likely to attack. If they can’t see the driver of a car, then they will generally let it pass. Tinted windows were very handy with zombies. Since we were high enough, we were able to duck down and stay out of sight. They could still inspect the vehicle, but if we could keep them from swarming, we wouldn’t have to stop. If we got stopped and they thought there was food inside, it was going to get ugly in a hurry.