Just Another Day

by Jacob Louis Sims

  While I knew that was highly unlikely (hell, the fact that we were all alive and doing mundane, everyday shit like that during the end of it all was fucking insane, even I knew that), that didn’t mean that they all had been ripped to pieces or been bitten, and were stumbling and shambling around looking for their next running, screaming meal. They could’ve been holed up with a good number of supplies, and just calling to see if I wanted to come hole up with them. I didn’t know, and wouldn’t have known until I checked all the messages and listened to the voice-mails. A task that I didn’t really want to do, ‘cause I was afraid of what I would find out.

  I walked back into the living room (fresh beer in hand), and sat back down on the couch, with my fully charged phone.

  Very cautiously, Sue asked, “Did you get some bad news, Dave? Because I really hope you didn’t.”

  “I don’t know. I haven’t checked yet,” I replied, sadly. “I just saw that I missed a fuckin’ ton of calls and shit and couldn’t handle it…… I overreacted, though, ‘cause I really don’t know what they were all about, if they were all bad. Even though the way things are going out there… it’s probably all bad news. Guess it’s time I found out.”

  I sat for over an hour, listening to the voice-mails, and checking the texts - then frantically tried to call the people back and sent texts to everyone who had contacted me. I cried like a little baby - like a big fuckin’ pussy, right in front of my friends - as I was listening and reading, ‘cause the majority of the news I got from the messages was bad. Very bad. Especially the voice-mails. I heard my friends and family in their final, agonizing moments, begging and pleading for their lives, for me to save them - then heard their screams as the dead tore them asunder.

  If it wasn’t for the few (very few) positive texts and voice-mails, I would’ve went to my room, got my Remington, and shot my fuckin’ head off.

  Bob Roberts and his brother Tom were still alive and kicking. They had turned Bob’s property to a fortress and were having a good time killing off the zombies in their area. Our friend Joey Sanchez was alive and holed up in his attic, with enough food and water to last him around a week. Crazy Kyle was with his brother Dale down in Peoria, slaying the undead over there. And the voice-mail from my friend Sarah Thompson, while not too promising, was at least devoid of doors and windows breaking, screams, and her obvious death. So there were some good things, at least.

  25

  “Joey and Sarah are still alive,” I said to Gus, Frank, and Sue after I slowly regained my composure, and got us all another round of beers - getting a resounding “Fuck yeah!” from them all.

  “Joey is up in his attic with his fuckin’ stupid girlfriends,” I continued, (they all laughed at that, ‘cause they knew that his “girlfriends” were his cats) “and enough food and water to last him a while. But not too long. Sarah… I’m not too sure where she’s at, just that she was alive when she left the voice-mail. Either way, tomorrow morning, I’m gonna go and save Joey.”

  “Then we’re going with you,” said Frank. “You’re gonna need some back-up.”

  “Yeah, we’re going, too, Dave,” seconded Gus.

  “No fuckin’ way you guys are going! We didn’t fight our way clear across this fuckin’ town for you to go right back out there and get killed, Gus! No, you guys are staying here. I can handle this shit on my own. And if I die, it’s no big deal, ‘cause all my family is already dead. You still have each other, and that’s how it’s gonna stay!”

  “Fuck that!” yelled Frank, and not quietly either. “Going clear to Joey’s on your own is suicide and you know it, Dave! There is no way you can survive out there on your own! I don’t care how tough you think you are, you’re gonna need us with you.”

  While I knew that Frank was right, I still didn’t agree with him. But I really didn’t have a choice. It’s not like I was gonna somehow incapacitate them all, or sneak out in the middle of the night or something, and go on a heroic run to victory - I did need help getting to Joey’s and back alive, I just didn’t want them to risk their lives doing it. So I conceded. With only one demand.

  “Okay… Okay… but Sue stays here.”

  “What? You’re gonna make me stay here by myself?” Sue asked.

  “I’m sorry, but it’s no place for you out there, Sue. I don’t even want to go back outside, but at least I can handle myself, and I know Gus can. I’m sure Frank can, too. No offense, but I don’t think you can take some of the things that you might need to do to survive out there, if you went.”

  “Like what? What can’t I do that you can, Dave?”

  “Well, the most obvious - can you kill someone if you had to? To stay alive, could you shoot someone in the head, then another and another and another? I know you and Frank had to go outside when you tried to rescue your neighbor, but did you have to kill anyone - a zombie?”

  “…No. I hit them with the golf club, but I don’t think I killed any of them, just knocked them out of my way.”

  “Okay. And the girl you guys let in, who turned. I know you stabbed her in the chest with a knife, but do you think you could have finished her off if Frank wasn’t there?”

  “…No, probably not… I don’t know, I was really scared, Dave. I don’t know what would have happened.”

  “I know, and I’m not trying to be a dick here, but I don’t think you can kill those things without thinking about what you’re doing. I can, and I know Gus can. Frank… he’s got mental problems, so I’m sure he’ll be okay out there. But you, you’re too good a person, and personally, I don’t want the things you’d have to do out there tainting that. I’m sure that if it came down to it, you could take care of yourself if you had to, but I don’t want you to be put in those situations, if they can be avoided.”

  “Or is it because I’m a woman? You want to give me special privileges because I don’t have a dick, is that it? You don’t think I’m as strong as you, physically or mentally?”

  “…Those are all good points… but not the only reasons why I want you to stay. Completely valid, though…”

  I was about to concede, again, when Gus spoke up before I got my chance.

  “Okay, Dave, I’ll stay back with her. You and Frank can go to Joey’s. Three or four people will be too big a crowd anyway, will be seen easier. It’ll be safer with just the two of you. So, you two go and we’ll hold up the fort. Besides, I really don’t want to go back out, anyways.”

  “You sure about this, Gus?”

  “Yes, I’m sure.”

  “Sue, you cool with this?”

  “…Yeah, it’s cool, but I’m pissed at you, Dave. You don’t think I’d be any help out there, and that’s bullshit. I’d be just as helpful as anyone else… Chauvinist asshole.”

  “Fair enough… Well, in that case, Frank, we got some preparing to do. But I think we should go the day after tomorrow, instead, ‘cause even though we still got plenty of weaponry and ammo, we don’t have the proper protective clothing to be running around with the land sharks out there. Running around in blue-jeans and t-shirts like we been doing is fuckin’ stupid.”

  “What do you plan on wearing,” Gus asked. “Because I don’t think I have anything that you could wear here, at least anything bite-proof, if that’s what you’re thinking about.”

  “Yeah, that’s what I have on my mind - bite-proofing. What I was thinking, is that tomorrow morning, or all day if it took it, we all go house to house, apartment to apartment in this neighborhood and search for things we could wear: like leather jackets and gloves, or even welders’ sleeves; good boots that go at least to mid-calf, if they can be found; maybe some long-johns we could wear under our pants, even though I don’t think their jaws are strong enough to bite through the fabric, like in the movies. Pisses me off when I see that shit. I was also thinking about finding some melee weapons, like mace-type weapons we could use when the guns aren’t an option.”

  “Okay. It is a little safer out there since those guys went through, so it s
houldn’t be too risky, although we’ll have to be extra careful clearing everyplace we go into.”

  “Exactly. Very good point. Plus, I was thinking that we all could stock up on food supplies, as well. Look for things that won’t rot or spoil any time soon, like canned goods and bagged foods like cereals and chips and shit. I don’t know how much food you guys got in here, but I doubt it’s enough to last an extended period of time.”

  “We just went grocery shopping the day before yesterday,” said Sue. “So we have enough to last us about a month, but with three extra mouths to feed - you, Frank, and Joey, if he comes back with you - it’ll last only a couple weeks. So, yeah, we will need more food.”

  “Okay. So that’s the plan. Does anyone else have anything to add, or maybe other ideas or options?” I asked.

  “I think it wouldn’t be a bad idea to look for more guns,” answered Gus. “I bet there are a lot just lying around outside and in the houses that we could definitely find a use for. Bullets, too. We already have a decent number of weapons, but the more the better.”

  “Good thinkin’, stinkin’ Lincoln. Okay, Sue, Frank? Anything?”

  “Yeah,” said Sue. “Drugs. I think we should keep an eye out for any and all prescription drugs and anti-biotics. Plus, any first-aid supplies we can find. I bet that over there in Liberty Village we could find a bunch of prescriptions that we might need in the future. Especially since I’m pretty sure all the hospitals and doctors’ offices are closed for good now.”

  “Genius! You got anything, Frank?”

  “Yeah, we might want to get a hold of a portable gas-powered gennie. Doubt the powers gonna stay on forever, with pretty much everyone dead. But besides that, all the bases are pretty much covered. The only thing that I’m really concerned with is which of your guns I’m gonna be carrying when we go and save Joey’s ass.”

  “Good idea, man! Gun-wise, I’m gonna have my .22 in hand, so you can use either the Remington or the AR.”

  “I guess I’ll take the shotgun, then. Fuckin’ A!”

  “That’s good,” said Gus, “that’ll leave us with my guns here, just in case, and we’re all good. Although, if we do find more weapons tomorrow, it really won’t matter who takes what.”

  “Awesome,” said I, “then it’s on tomorrow! Who wants a beer?”

  26

  We were up and at it at a little after nine in the a.m. We all were a little “under the weather” since we had cashed out all the beer in the fridge the night before - and there was a lot. We were in no condition to go on a house-to-house search like I had proposed (I was in the bathroom puking my guts out for ten minutes straight), but I didn’t feel comfortable with keeping Joey trapped up in his attic for even one day more than we had planned. And our hang-overs’ were no excuse to post-pone, even though they were massive.

  Despite the shitty start to it, the day went very well. We started with Gus’s building - where we found an AK-47 in his neighbor’s closet, with a couple crates of bullets for it - and proceeded to clear the rest of his block, and beyond.

  While we did come across the occasional zombie - which we took out as quietly as possible, using all sorts of bludgeons and shit like shovels and hoes and improvised weapons, never once using our guns - the traveling warriors did a real good fuckin’ job of clearing the streets. All in all we only killed twenty-three zombies as we did our house-to-house looting spree. There were a couple close calls in some of the houses, like when Sue opened up a closet and a zombie lunged out at her, getting a sharpened broom handle shoved up through its head in the process (like I said, improvised weapons), but overall, it was a breeze. No sweat.

  And we got a fuckin’ ton of shit! Our arsenal was thirty-four guns larger, with plenty of bullets for each; we found so many types of drugs and first-aid shit in the houses and Liberty combined that we could’ve opened up a working clinic if we wanted to; we picked up scores of things we could use as melee weapons, like various gardening implements, tire-beaters (something truck drivers use), and some bad-ass machete’s; we each got all the protective clothing we would need, plus some regular clothes, too, for Frank and myself, since all our shit was irretrievable; Frank found a sweet Honeywell generator that’d run the apartment with ease for when the grid eventually went down; and we got us enough food to last at least a year. No shit. We were literally dumping wheel-barrow after wheel-barrow of shit into Gus’s garage, it was awesome. By the time we were done, when the sun went down, his garage was filled to the brim with supplies.

  Another thing we found - and this brought tears to my eyes, looking at it after the fact, all piled up in its glorious splendor - was fifty-two cases of beer. Case after case, can after can, bottle after bottle of mind-numbing liquid happiness. And we had all the brands and flavors one could want, too; foreign or domestic, it didn’t matter - everything from Pabst Blue Ribbon to Stella Artois was stacked on the floor, a shining beacon to alcoholics everywhere. Merry fuckin’ Christmas to me!

  “Fuck yeah!” Gus cheered as the garage door closed. “That was fucking awesome! We have so much shit now, we won’t need to do this again till at least next year! And we didn’t even go through all the homes, not even half!”

  “And look at all this beer!” I nearly cried. “I am so happy right now!”

  “I know, me too,” Frank said as he pulled some Busch outta one of the top cases, handing them out to us. “Let’s get fucking drunk!”

  “That’s what I’m talkin’ bout, muthafucka! It’s on!”

  “I don’t mean to be a party-crasher, guys,” said Sue, laughing, “but I think we should take this upstairs, so no zombies walk by and see this big, lit-up door and hear us in here. I’d hate to have wasted the whole day getting all this stuff, only to lose it all because some zombies heard us in here and crashed through the plastic door. So grab what you guys think you’ll need tonight, and head upstairs.”

  “Yes, mother,” I said, getting a spanking from Sue (which I liked), as I grabbed two cases and went upstairs, Frank me behind carrying two more.

  Once upstairs, we proceeded to have a kick-ass pre-saving Joey party. Sue turned on the boom box, with the volume a little louder than before - but still not too loud. I went outside to check if someone could hear us, and couldn’t hear a thing from ground level. Plus, no light was visible from the apartment, since we had duct-taped anything we could find over the windows shortly after Gus and I had arrived from across the way, effectively blacking them out.

  Then Sue and Gus went into the kitchen and started cooking us all up some fat, juicy steaks we had found in our foray of the neighborhood - plus all the fixins’- while Frank and I sat on the couch to enjoy our brews, occasionally going into the kitchen to shoot the shit and get more beers.

  After the dee-licious meal was done, we all resided back to our respective seats in the living room and watched a couple movies - some comedies, since we were all in a good fuckin’ mood and wanted to keep it going. When the movies were done, and there was nearly four cases worth of empties on the kitchen counter and in the sink, we decided to call it a day and hit the hay.

  “Nite nite, y’alls,” I said. “Frank, rest up, buddy. We got us a big day tomorrow. I, myself, am going to slip into a coma. Oh, sweet oblivion, how you soothe me so…”

  “Yeah, I can’t fucking wait, man! See you in the morning!”

  27

  And we were off! Again!

  We got a move on a little after 7:30 in the a.m. Surprisingly, we both felt pretty damn good, despite having consumed mass quantities of beer the night before.

  We both were wearing packs that had enough food and water in them (plus a twelver, each) to last three days, a couple changes of clothes, and so many bullets for each of our assorted weapons that we could’ve killed over a hundred zombies each and still had enough to kill a hundred more. A little overkill - and a little heavy - but, hey, it’s better to be prepared for the worst possible situation, than be fucked ‘cause we didn’t have enough rounds. />
  I was carrying the same weapons that I had on the way to Gus’s house - my Remington and my AR-15 strapped to my pack, my Taurus .40 on my LBV, and my Marlin .22 in my hands. Frank, thanks to our acquisitions from the house-to-house, had the AK Gus found in his neighbors closet and a sweet Mossberg 12-gauge Auto strapped to his pack, a Beretta 9 mil. at his right hip, and this bad-ass motherfuckin’ H&K MP5 in his hands. And each of us had a wicked machete in a scabbard on our calves, for the silent kill. Right on.

  We were also suited up properly, from the ground up: we both had on combat boots, that had the leather (not canvas) uppers; we were both wearing leather chaps over our pants, just in case some crawling zombies tried to take a bite out of our calves and shit; I had on a thin, but still solid, leather jacket, and Frank had on a side-split cowhide welding cape sleeve that covered his arms to his wrists, and his chest and belly; and we both had on snug leather gloves, just in case we had to punch some zombie in the teeth, or a zombie tried biting our fingers off. The only things not covered up were our necks and heads. We thought of covering up those, but decided that it would’ve been stupid, since we really didn’t plan on letting any zombies get too close to us, anyways.

  Instead of trying to drive a car to Joey’s house, where the chances of making it three blocks without hitting a road-block of wrecked or stopped cars were slim and the chances of the engine being heard by a swarm of zombies was very high, we decided to head out on foot. That way, we had the option to go on a more direct route, on pretty much a straight line, rather than going down that road, turning down that street… and so on and so forth. On foot, we had the ability of quick and silent movement that a car would not have given us. But driving some type of vehicle when we could was not out of the question, especially if a horde was upon us.

  We made it to Route 251 without a hitch, where we kneeled in the bushes that lined the highway for nearly fifteen minutes, scoping out the area and looking for any shambling, undead threats before we attempted to cross. It looked good, despite the mash-up of cars and piles and piles of shot and charred zombie corpses the traveling warriors had left heaped all over the place.