The vehicle came to a halt thirty yards from the nearest RV. Bruce staggered out, hot, tired and bothered. He was glad to be alive, but feeling rather disillusioned by the state of the group.
“What the hell happened out there?” asked Keith.
“We got greedy, we got careless, and it cost us one man’s life, a vehicle and a shit load of supplies,” said Bruce.
“Would you care to explain it to us?” asked Keith.
Bruce walked up to Keith furiously. He grabbed him by his shirt.
“No, I fucking wouldn’t you muppet! You can sit on your arse and complain all you like, but the reality is shit happens, sometimes it can be avoided, and this is a case of it. The group has become lax lately, too much drink, too little focus,” said Bruce.
Bruce shoved Keith away who stayed silent. The group that had come to greet them was expecting to celebrate their success, but Bruce had lowered the tone. He was furious with the lax state that had overcome them all, and angry with himself for being in part a cause of it as much as anyone else. Bruce paced up and down, them all waiting for him to speak.
“You want to celebrate, don’t you? Celebrate what? This is total shit, and the only people who should feel happy with their actions today are the three who came to get us, the only people who acted in good conscience with a sensible and safe course of action.”
The crowd was gripped by Bruce’s words, shocked by his negative outlook and sudden serious turn, but entirely focused.
“We need to have a serious think about our future, because we cannot continue this way. The cities are too dangerous and the safer supplies are running thinner. This lifestyle will keep us going for maybe another year, but the food and fuel isn’t going to last forever,” said Bruce.
“What do you suggest?” asked Keith.
“I don’t have a suggestion. All I’m saying is we must all give some serious consideration to the way we act each and every day, and how we intend to stay alive for the years to come,” said Bruce.
“But what do we do now?” asked Keith.
“Now, we have what we have, and there’s a city right next to us full of undead fuckers. We need to get as far from it as possible. Saddle up, we’re moving out right now, I want a new vehicle before the week is over, and we’re heading on to new lands,” said Bruce.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
MID-WEST, UNITED STATES
Madison awoke a half hour after sunrise, earlier than she had in a long time, the impeding threat being enough to keep her from her usual deep sleep. Still wearing the clothes from the day before, she slipped her shoes on and walked out of the house to see what was going on. Half of the town’s people were already up and out of their houses, beginning the preparations for the day ahead. Jack was gassing his truck up with jerry cans, outside the church where he’d left if the day before. Wells walked out of the church with a loudhailer in hand. He held it up to his lips.
“Everyone not on guard is to meet in the square in fifteen minutes,” he said.
Dale and his brother rode into view, each of their horses tugging a truck along slowly into the centre of the town.
“You’re stars!” shouted Madison.
“You just better hope they come back in the condition they started in!”
“You mean dirty, dented and out of gas?” asked Jack.
They chuckled. Both loved their trucks but were glad to finally see them being put to work again. The brothers unhooked the horses from their vehicles and walked over to the fuel bowser that was parked up across the street from the church. They began filling Jerry cans that were stacked alongside it to get their vehicles ready for their new drivers. The people were already amassing in the square, much quicker than Wells had ordered, which pleased him. The Pastor again got up onto the bed of Jack’s truck, looking up to see the last few people arrive and waiting for him to speak.
“Firstly I want to thank you all for your prompt arrival, the safety of our homes is at stake, and the responsibility to defend it falls equally among us all!” said Wells.
The crowd listened intently, still silent and unsure of exactly what the next few days were going to involve. Most of the crowd was well armed with rifles, shotguns and handguns, as well as an assortment of close quarter weapons. There wasn’t a person among them that was completely unarmed, just as per their rules. Pastor Wells was wearing a black combat vest over his usual clothing, the white collar still visible, a thigh leg holster slung on his right hip with a glistening revolver hanging from it. This sight was a shock to them as he’d always carried his handgun concealed, but now saw the necessity to be equal among his people.
“The next few days are going to be some of the hardest, if not the worst days we have ever seen, but they have one saving grace. When this war began we were caught unawares, with our trousers down some might say. Survivors were scattered, with few supplies and no hope of a home or community. That is not the fight we face now, now the ball is in our court. We’re working as one, as an organised and determined community. We have the supplies, the manpower, the ammunition and the skills we need. We’re going to fight these creatures, and we are going to send them back to hell!” shouted Wells.
The crowd cheered, inspired by their spiritual leader to do the very best they could. Many of the people waved guns in the air, an unnerving sight after a pastor’s speech, but a comforting one nonetheless.
“Greg, you’re in charge of construction, get us some sturdy walls around the church and surrounding buildings, be sure to leave us as escape route to the east, God forbid we should need it. Madison, you’re on vehicle duty, assemble as many vehicles you can, a selection of buses and trucks, get them operational and armoured up. I will now leave you with Jack, who will handle the combat side of things, good luck and God speed,” said Wells.
“We move out in ten minutes, be sure you have plenty of ammunition on all the trucks, and that the Molotov’s are safely secured. Also be sure to have water and basic food onboard. All who are coming with me assemble here once the trucks are ready so I can explain the strategy. That’s it, good luck to all of you,” said Jack.
The town square erupted into motion, each person going about their appointed job. Ten minutes later the drivers and crews of the vehicles, thirty five in total, were assembled at the vehicles, all awaiting Jack’s final words.
“It’ll be about a four hour drive to get out to the horde, so conserve food and water. We have a lot of ammunition, but there’s also a shit load of zombies. We’ll have a simple policy. We stop three hundred yards in front of the horde and turn around so we face back towards home. We’ll stay in a line, three vehicles wide on the road, with a truck each side on the grass. Nobody begins firing until they reach a hundred yards and then keep firing till they reach thirty yards, no less than twenty. We then fire up the trucks and drive on a hundred yards, repeating the process. No truck moves without the group, and no one fires until I give the word each time we stop. Drivers will be our eyes to the sides and rear, all clear?” said Jack.
“How about the Molotovs?” asked Billy.
“They have a pretty short range so they’ll be the last things we use each time the horde closes to twenty yards. I want engines running every time the horde reaches fifty yards. If at any time a truck won’t start or move, you jump to another and leave it behind. Remember, headshots are what bring these bastards down best, so use your ammunition wisely, anything else?” said Jack.
The crowd shook their heads, there was probably a lot more Jack should tell them, but time was a luxury they didn’t have.
“A couple more things, those with shotguns, use the buckshot and solid slugs we have as much as possible, save the birdshot for the defence of Babylon where the ranges will better suit it. Also, once the firing begins, we don’t want to be doubling up targets, we’ll be in a line of five vehicles, therefore divide the horde up into five quadrants, in proportion to where your vehicle is in our formation, and keep your shooting to those areas. Right, let�
�s load up!” shouted Jack.
The fighters poured into the vehicles as the engines fired up. Madison and Wells watched them from the entrance of the church as they drove out of the town. Madison had her beloved AK slung on her shoulder as ever, though she knew it would likely not fire a shot for a few days.
“It’s time we all got on,” said Wells.
“Alright guys, let’s move!” shouted Madison.
The four men assigned to her followed her down the southern road, towards her old school where she hoped to find some working buses. The men she led had little respect for her before the Zompoc, but the fact she was the Pastor’s daughter forced them to at least be publicly polite. However, her capable skills over the last year had made them all re-consider their opinions of Madison, and they were now happy to work alongside her. One of the men pulled a horse with four Jerry cans slung over its back, two gas and two diesel. Another man pulled a donkey along with all manner of tools slung over it, from crowbars to sledge hammers.
“We’ll go for the buses to begin with, they’ll allow us to haul the maximum number of people and supplies, so they are our priority,” said Madison.
It was an hour’s walk to her old school, it being the other side of town, a walk she had become so familiar with, but it now shared little with her memories. Despite the survivors’ efforts to maintain the area they now called Babylon, the edge of town had been left to decay. Many of the shop windows were smashed from either fighting or the gathering of supplies. Old clothing and paperwork was scattered across the street, with dirt and dust everywhere. It looked like it was a ghost town.
The group finally reached the school, almost all of the old metal railings and wire fence having been taken by the survivors to fortify their homes and vehicles. The dusty old yellow bus was already in view, with the rear of another behind it. They carefully ventured towards the vehicles, weapons drawn. This part of town was abandoned, but there was always the threat of zombies in any area that wasn’t protected at all times. Madison led the way past the first vehicle, the second’s front end was parked inside a large workshop. The hood was off the bus and parts and tools were strewn about, clearly it was being worked on a year before.
“How bad is it?” asked Madison.
Joey stepped a little closer, a young and capable mechanic. He stuffed his head into the engine bay and tinkered around for a minute before looking up.
“I don’t know exactly what’s wrong here, but I guess it was a big job, it’ll likely need a day to fix, assuming we can find all the parts,” said Joey.
“That won’t do, leave it, let’s check the other, the keys should be in that office in the corner,” said Madison.
Joey grabbed the keys and boarded the bus, turning the ignition the fuel gauge was on empty, having already been siphoned. The big diesel block turned over and kicked into life, black smoke bellowing from its exhaust.
“Cut it, and get some fuel in that tank!” shouted Madison.
“Fucking hell, always wanted to drive one of these things,” said Joey.
“Let’s work on getting this bus up and running today, so we know we at least have one solid vehicle to haul people and kit. Joey, I want you to give it a good look over underneath, make sure everything is solid. The rest of you, time to go looking for any bars, mesh, anything you can get. I want this bus fully operational and armoured before the day is out. I also want some kind of plough on the front, we may have to force our way through those bastards, and this could well be the vehicle to do it. I’ll stay here on watch whilst Joey’s working,” said Madison.
* * *
Far from the long boring drives Jack was used to, it was an anxious drive to face their enemy, as it always was when you were en route to a battle. Jack had been praying to find nothing, to discover that they’d changed direction, or were just a figment of his imagination, or that the numbers weren’t as large as he had estimated. Finally after several hours the horde came into view, that same sea of foulness that had shocked them the first time. He could hear the people sitting in the truck bed gasp at the sight of them. Jack rolled down his window and slid the divider across behind him.
“This is it lads, follow my lead and stick to the plan!” shouted Jack.
They drove up in front of the horde, a column along the road and track beside it for as long as they could see. The vehicles turned around in convoy like a snake, until they were facing back towards Babylon. Jack’s lead truck came to a slow halt and the other vehicles forked off around him, forming up in line. He stepped out from the passenger seat, his bushmaster carbine slung across his body. Jack was now wearing a combat vest over a t-shirt, holstered pistol and sunglasses, looking like a private contractor from the human war he’d once fought in.
“This is it people, you have a few minutes before they get within range, be sure that all your weapons are in order and ammunition within reach, have the Molotovs ready too!” called Jack.
The horde shambled on, completely unaffected by the hunting party’s presence. Slides racked and bolts clicked as the survivors made themselves ready for the first wave. Jack swung his grab bag around to the side of his body and threw the lid open, ready to dispose of his empty magazines, he was stood beside the bed of his truck. All went silent among the hunting pack, all ready, only awaiting their command to release hell upon the creatures. Sweat dripped from their brows as the heat beat down on them and the stress weighed heavy.
“Fire!” shouted Jack.
The first shots rang out like a musket volley, followed by a random but almost continuous sound of gun shots, as the different weapons and users fired at their own speed. Bodies dropped across the frontline of the horde, the column behind them simply stepping through or over their dead and crippled. The guns kept firing, blood splattered and bodies fell along the line, but the horde kept going. Finally they were within forty yards and getting nearer.
“Molotovs! Get the Molotovs!” shouted Jack.
The crews each began to take up the first of their Molotovs, lighting the rags that hung from them.
“Cease fire! Now!” shouted Jack.
Five Molotovs were hurled against the crowd. Two struck the very nearest, shattering and sending flames across the front of their column. The other three disappeared into a fiery mass among them. Those creatures behind the ones on fire began to slow as their path was blocked, with others forcing through in a more dispersed manner.
“That’s it, let’s move!” ordered Jack.
He jumped onto the edge of the truck bed as the vehicles lurched forward and ambled along the track. All of the crew began to put their weapons down to cool and take up their second weapons. Jack unclipped his carbine and sat it in the truck bed, picking up his rifle of the same calibre which shared magazines. He banged on the top of the roof, signifying the line to stop, before leaping off the side.
“Right, that was a good first run. Keep calm, keep the routine and we’ll be home for dinner before you know it!” Jack shouted to them.
This mass culling continued all day, and the column rolled into Babylon at nine o’clock that evening. The westerly wall was now complete, a combination of overturned trucks, trailers, cars and building supplies, all lashed together. The five vehicles came to a halt outside the church as before. The crews were dusty and exhausted, many slept through the journey home. Wells stepped out of his church to greet them, alongside Madison.
“Jack, how did it go?” asked Wells.
“We gave them hell, but I have no idea if it will be enough, maybe we’ll have a better idea after tomorrow,” said Jack.
“Maybe tomorrow! This is our home we’re talking about, everything we have fought and died over!” shouted Wells.
Jack looked up with a disgusted look at the Pastor. He stormed up to the man and grabbed him by the straps of his combat vest.
“How about you show a little appreciation?”
“I, I,” said Wells.
“We’re all working our god damn asses off, doing th
e best we can with what we have. If that isn’t enough, then that’s simply it!” shouted Jack.
“Alright, I’m sorry, I just need this to work,” said Wells.
“We all do,” said Jack.
“Let’s call it a day and sit down for some food, guys,” said Madison.
“Sure, let’s do that,” said Wells.
“Listen up! Time for chow, but once you’re done, make sure before you turn in you thoroughly clean and oil all the weapons you used. We need them in full working order for the morning,” said Jack.
The next two days continued in much the same fashion as the first, passing much quicker than anyone could have imagined. Finally on the fourth day, the tired survivors awoke for what they knew would be their last chance. The horde was now just ten miles from Babylon when the survivors woke up for that final chance.
Madison stepped out of her house to see Jack’s teams loading their weapons beside the trucks, the rest of the populace assembling weapons alongside the makeshift walls to their town. She climbed a car that was forming a firing step behind an overturned tractor trailer. She gasped at the sight of the horde in the distance, like a dark snake creeping towards them. Madison climbed back down and walked towards to the church.
“I don’t care how many there are, you get out there and fight!” shouted Wells.
“We’re just wasting ammunition, we can’t stop them!” shouted Jack.
“Then we will fight them on the walls!” said Wells.
“Do you know anything about sieges?” asked Jack.
“Stop it! Now!” shouted Madison.
The two men looked at her, already calmed slightly by her presence.
“Jack wants us to just pack up and leave our homes,” said Wells.
“And what if we don’t do that?” asked Madison.
“Then the town will be swamped, we’ll be trapped here, assuming the defences hold. We’d just have to hope to kill them over time, but that is not likely,” said Jack.
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