by P. S. Power
If so, they were aware of the plan in play.
Good.
They were all on the same page then.
They would have killed him about that time, probably, but the other shooting started, which made the cops all duck, even though it wasn't for them. Two of them went down when they tried to look, Jake picking them off from the ground.
Morons.
They forgot to deal with the threat in front of them, closest to them, first. The last man tried to run, so caught a bullet to the back of the head. Jake reloaded, and jogged over to the scene of the other fight, coming at an angle to the rough line the others had set, not wanting to be shot by mistake. Rita was trying to run away from a shambler instead of shooting at it, and Molly seemed to be out of ammo. Two of the shamblers were down though, and none of their people were dead yet, so in all, better than he'd expected.
Jake yelled, “All right! Reload when they come for me, we'll yell back and forth like this, wait for me to take one out, then call out, got it? Don't answer yet! Just get ready, calm and relaxed. They can't take us this way as long as we all fight.” He smiled and shot not one but two of the things as they closed, the quickest of the bunch. No one said anything at all, busily resetting he hoped. He got the third just as Molly yelled again.
“Got it! Head shots this time, remember to aim for the head!” She sounded freaked, but the advice was right. It was heartening. Jake hadn't really been sure the girl had been paying that much attention the whole time.
Rita, little, skinny and clearly panicked jumped forward and fired at the first one, taking it under the chin, nearly removing the head altogether. Molly was more sedate, but took the last one without hesitation.
Or at least Jake thought it was the last one, until he saw that the dowdy woman and her slow boyfriend were being attacked. The woman fired twice, her shotgun empty then, she started to visibly panic. As the undead thing closed on her, Jake getting ready to fire, the slow man spoke gently.
“Back and to the left, let it come for me. It's all right. Back and to the left. Your own left.” He sounded... calm about it, steely. The dead guy who had a bit of a gut on him and ragged work clothes on, re-aimed , going for Len.
And caught a load of shot to the face that took it all the way to the ground, the slow man searching the world around him, one shot still left, and ready to fight.
Jake nearly wanted to cry, he was so proud.
They had promise. None of his people even had to be beheaded.
How incredible was that?
Jake didn't wait, grabbing a machete from the tool loaded cart, he started to limp back over to the bodies, and fell down. Right, shot.
Not bad, a couple of bird shot pellets he thought. From the holes it looked like five of them. Literally just a flesh wound. He bled, but not profusely. Rita pointed and started to cry out, but Molly shushed her. The holes would ruin his jeans, but it had been about time for a new pair anyway, or maybe Rita could help him patch these? That would be a handy skill to learn, sewing.
He sighed and shook his head a bit.
“Rita, would you get me something to tie this off with? Molly, start taking heads please. Um... You...” Jake had to think for a second to remember the slow guy's name again. He'd just had it too. Adrenalin would do that to you and he really did feel a bit jazzed at the moment.
“Len? Would you help her with that please? The cops too, we don't want them coming back if we can help it, since they've all had that vaccine. Bound to be all surly and aggressive if they do.”
The thin woman squawked loud enough that Jake nearly shot her, but had her back turned and went quiet without noticing anything at all, as she scrambled in the cart looking for something to use as a bandage. After about five minutes Jake asked if she'd just hurry. Please.
He made sure to add that, shot or not. Three minutes later he got up, limped over to the fabric cart, and grabbed the first thing to hand, then held his hand out for some scissors. She shook and stared at him slightly panicked seeming.
Well, he got that, he was binding his wound with a silky cloth that had black polka-dots on a white background. She probably had plans for it. That or thought it would clash with the jeans. Black and white went with everything though, didn't it? He didn't need much, he assured her, and gave the rest of the fabric back after he was done.
Then having a thought, he got the others to tie the carts in a line behind the police van, using some white nylon rope they'd brought. They couldn't go fast, but this way he wouldn't have to push the cart another two miles either. The bodies, all of them, got left, the weapons and ammo taken as well as the boots, belts and anything that looked useful. Each of the men had a nice hunting knife too. Probably for whittling. It wasn't like these guys worked. Not as far as Jake had seen. They just sort of holed up and sent zombies at people.
Their parents must have been so proud of all they'd accomplished in life.
As strange as it seemed, Rita, who was slightly older than most the rest of them, in her thirties, was the only one that could drive a stick shift. She'd had one for years she assured them, the van was a lot bigger, but odds were they wouldn't be blocking traffic as they crawled back home as slowly as they could. Jake didn't know what the carts could take, or the rope they'd used to set up the makeshift trailers. So they went slow, barely past the speed of a quick jog, which still had them pulling in a lot faster than they would have otherwise.
They were met with guns, a lot of them, but everyone realized who it was fast enough and that Jake had a bloody rag on his leg. He'd lived through worse, except that they had to get the shot out if they could. Otherwise it would probably give him lead poisoning eventually or something. Tetanus maybe? One of those kinds of things. He smiled when he said it, but no one volunteered to help him get it out.
Great. So much for trying to be polite and friendly.
He found a knife and sat on the ground outside to dig for it. That... was less than fun. In fact he had to fight screaming more than once, clamping his jaw as wave after wave of hot pain shot through his leg. Finally a small hand pushed the knife away.
Sammi. She held something shiny in her hand at his eye level, held between two small fingers. Her expression said something along the lines of, “what the fudge Einstein?”
“Tweezers. A miracle tool that has been around for about four hundred years in one form or another. Let me see what I can do. It will hurt.” She worked with a will, carefully, but not stopping at all, since he didn't bother yelling or passing out.
It took her twenty more minutes to get the last one. He hoped it was the last one, that was five at least. She poked and prodded for a while then washed the wound and dusted it with penicillin powder. That all stung, but less than being shot had. Way less than what he managed to do himself with the knife. When she finished the tiny girl, woman really, gave him a frank look.
“You know, it's all right to ask for help sometimes. People are just waiting for you to suggest what to do most of the time. Trying to operate on yourself with all these people around is ridiculous.” She gave him her best bossy eleven year old girl look and then shook her head sadly.
“Not everyone will act on their own. Most need to be prompted. You do fine with that idea most of the time, until it comes to your own safety and comfort, then you keep expecting people to magically change and run to help you. Or more to the point, expecting them not to and then feel down about it when they don't. Next time just ask, will you? It will save time.” The girl sounded tired.
With him, Jake realized. Apparently he'd been a bit too stupid for her? He sighed and nodded.
“Right. I'll try to remember that. It just seems like everyone else automatically gets help and...”
Nothing followed that. It was just too whiny. Sammi grinned up at him anyway.
“They ask each other for help all the time Jake. It becomes a habit. Everyone always assumes that you'll just order them to act if you want them to. Even Nate and the Vals, which isn't a goo
d thing, strictly speaking. Those girls should probably come clean with everyone soon.” Shrugging the girl puckered her lips and blew a loose strand of blonde hair from her face, carefully not touching anything with her bloody fingers.
“They should understand enough about what it takes for a unit to function not to leave you hanging like they have been. They wouldn't do it with one of their own.”
They bound the wound together, tight but not so much he wouldn't be able to walk on it, then since the rest of them were telling Nate and a gathering of people what had happened on their way back, he signaled Burt to come over to look at the stuff. Then it started to rain again. That would make washing interesting at least.
Justine ran over too, happily looking at all the new tools and bricks. The large boned girl, tall and sturdy, seemed pretty pleased, pointing at the new materials she spoke.
“So, a hot water heater and some covered buildings for it. What else do we need?”
A tiny voice, Sammi, came from behind him.
“A way to make bullets or weapons that will work that don't need them. Cradles for the babies, more warm clothes if we can get it, and more meat. We have a lot, but it will go faster than we think in the cold months ahead. People will need to eat a lot more. Plus, we can cut down on potential problems by simply being able to take in some of the people that might come. If they reach us, people will be desperate, and an offer of food and warmth for the winter will probably get people on our side fast.”
The others kind of stared at her, but Jake nodded.
“Carl has a hunt going on, and I won't be walking into town again for a few weeks. We can send Vickie and some others for cradles maybe? Or Tipper. She'd be better in fact, because I'd rather not be around her right now. That's just me though. I don't know what to do about the bullets, check out gun smiths? Westwood didn't have one. Too small.”
Burt shook his head and muttered, “Clyde did though, on route nine? About forty miles from here, and in an area we haven't cleared at all. Can that truck make it there and back on the fuel it has?”
Jake didn't know, it had over half a tank, but how far that would take them was just a guess. They could try it though, and load a cart for the gear if they had to walk.
“But I can't do it if I'm hoofing it for a while. Maybe someone else will? I guess I should work on the water heater, and the forge stuff?”
For now at least. He limped to the wooden cart he'd made and started unloading fabric with Rita, who kept staring at him as he limped along. Jake didn't get it. Was she mad about something? Maybe his use of her good fabric? It was an emergency though, so hopefully the woman would understand. She didn't look too angry at least and finally wondered off with an armload of stuff and came back with Carley in tow.
“Jake! What the hell? Go sit down, hey, people get out here and unload these carts!” She had to go get people, real yelling not being an option, but she sounded happy enough about it, enthusiastic to see all the new supplies. Especially real wood that didn't have to be used as raw logs. She nearly freaked out over that.
“So cool. What's the plan?” She said, watching Jake as he stood.
Jake shrugged and gave her a soft look that came with a smile.
“You tell me. If the wood collection is going well for now, we can start on the bath houses. Pick who you want to work on it and we'll all make it happen. I'm on the water heaters myself, so we need to work together to make sure it all lines up.” She could manage it after all. Carley was actually pretty competent once she forgot that in her world women weren't supposed to be in charge... Even if they actually were. For a second she looked like she'd have a problem with the idea, but then she nodded.
“Right. I see what you did there. We'll start tomorrow. I'll get with Justine, she's good at building things. Who knew, right? Makes me glad you didn't kill her and everything.” She smiled and started unloading the cart, waving Jake away.
“Go and sit somewhere. Read a book maybe? It'll be good for you. All you do is work anymore.” She said it as if it were a bad thing.
Jake stuck his tongue out at her and gave a nearly silent laugh.
“Fine, I'll do that, but when everyone complains about how lazy I am, it's on you. Just know that in advance.”
“Deal, if they complain to you just send them out here, and I'll let them take over your jobs for a few days. That should stop any noise like that.”
Going inside took longer than it should have, his leg stiffening up now that it had a chance to. It made him limp worse, which he hid, if for no particular reason. No one watched him or anything, not that he noticed, so it wasn't that he didn't want them to see him in a weakened state, to prevent attack. He stopped and went to the wash area and scrubbed himself, which made his leg even stiffer, from the cold, then got dressed in clean, if very worn, clothing. If he was going to touch books, he wanted not to ruin them. Plus, it was like a ritual for him to wash as soon as he could after he killed anything.
The fiction section had a lot more books, since he'd added some from various houses, just grabbing what he could find. A few non-fiction were in there too, but only one of them seemed to be about firearms. It had pictures of very nice and decorative weapons on the front, but turned out to be about air-rifles instead. He nearly put it down until a random passage caught his eye.
It was possible to make fifty caliber air rifles. They could be charged by hand and even have multiple shots. The designs were in the book, it looked... complicated and tricky, but currently they didn't have anything with that kind of stopping power. It would punch a hole in a car door for instance. Through a car door it actually said when he re-read it carefully. Could they make that? The hard part looked to be the air cylinder, which had to be made very precisely, but the rest of it could be done with available materials. Once he had the forge working at least. He liked the basic idea, if he could figure out how to make it so it would fire faster...
It was hard to come by bullets, but with something like that they might get by.
He sat for hours reading the book, trying to figure out what was needed, then going over the texts they had on blacksmithing too. That really would have to come first, but it would be useful to have a weapon like that if it could be managed. He'd try it if he ever got a chance. Maybe. His leg throbbed through dinner, a meal that made the room look empty with the ten person hunting team still gone. They planned to be gone four days, preserving things as they went somehow. Jake needed to learn that, whatever it was they were doing. It could come in handy.
After dinner he helped dry dishes with the kids in the kitchen. Yvonne still helped as well. The slightly older woman looked happier now, more than he'd ever seen and told him that she was just feeling good for some reason. Better, like kicking a bug or something.
Or an addiction to Holsom? Sammi got what he was thinking and nodded gently.
“A lot of the women are feeling better suddenly. It's a good sign, I think. People are settling in.”
Once they finished it was bed time, even though it couldn't have been more than six-thirty or so at night. No one was really sleepy yet, except him, because being wounded did that. As he lay in bed trying to sleep, he heard them.
A lot of them.
Almost all of them.
Jerks.
People making love in the dark. Soft moans and groans of pleasure mixing with the gentle sound of body hitting body. He heard this off and on for hours. Finally, feeling very alone, he tried to fall asleep anyway. It was too much, and just for a minute, one that stretched for about an hour and a half, Jake kind of wanted to die.
Zombies hadn't pushed him to that, or super-zombies, not corrupt police or near starvation. But this... He shook his head slowly, tears that hadn't fallen for so many other things creeping down the side of his face. Tears he'd never cried for Rachel, or his parents came out now. Silently, but it made him feel weak. Unloved. Unworthy of love from anyone. The loneliness was sharp too, aching in his gut. Finally he tried to force himsel
f out of it.
Life wasn't fair, but it still wouldn't be fair in the morning, so he might as well get some rest.
He woke up in the dark to the sound of soft snores and heavy breathing, signs of sleep, with something rubbing on the wounds of his leg. In the moonlight from the window he saw green shining eyes. Sammi. She shushed him and crawled up his body putting her lips nearly in his ear.
“I'm using a cloth, so just relax. I know the licking freaked you out, though it really does work better. It releases more healing factors. Let me get the bandage back on...” Which she did quickly, working his jeans enough that anyone watching would have thought some very bad things were going on. Then she touched his neck and he suddenly dropped to sleep, wondering if it had really happened at all.
In the morning Jake ate breakfast then set to work on making the huge water heater. It wouldn't make itself and the charcoal was still warming the ground, so it hadn't gone out yet. For once, without asking, everyone else, almost everyone, came out and worked too. The ground was cold now, not frozen. Winter would be upon them all soon, and even the lazy people were starting to feel a bit of panic set in.
They had less than six weeks before they could expect snow and that was just on average, it could come even sooner, as little as a month. Jake thought about it for a second, remembered the stove for the greenhouse too and worked faster.
There really always was more to do.
Chapter Ten
The hunters didn't come back on day four. Or day five. For a while Jake wondered if they were coming back at all. There was just so much that could stop that now. Zombies, other groups or even fighting amongst themselves. Just because he'd come back, that didn't mean no one had a grudge or two saved up. Everyone started getting a little tense, worried about it. Waiting and wondering.