It took the men nearly until dark to get things loaded up, but they hustled to finish before it got too late. As we pulled out of the parking lot, I tried to lighten the depressed atmosphere by keying the CB mike and asking in a kid’s whiny voice, “Dad, I’ve been a really good girl today. Can I have an ice cream cone on the way home?”
Dr. Taylor actually laughed at that until he saw me watching. Dad keyed his mike up and I could hear laughter in the background. “Uh, sure, Honey. Just as soon as we get this stuff unloaded, get the rest of the fencing up, prepare for nuclear fallout and learn how to make ice cream.” More laughter erupted.
It was a more relaxed atmosphere on the way back home. Home. I guess it really is where the heart is because I’d only been here a few days and yet it seemed where I belonged. We’re lucky people to have not only survived the first days of the apocalypse, but to have found company that not only gets along, but who works together and supports each other during this time of stress. We are fast becoming an enormous and diverse family.
Would that make Jason my cousin? Damn! Where did that thought come from?
It was dark by the time we made it back home and zombies were out in force. We had no choice but to run over a few of them, but not many. By the time they noticed us and began to follow, we had already driven several blocks.
They’ll eventually make it to our house. We now know that to be true. We’re more prepared now than ever and shoring up our home further each day, but there’s additional work to be completed before we’ll be safe from the soon to be arriving undead.
When we neared the main gate to the ranch – they’ve installed two now - no one hurried out to let us in which seemed odd in itself and the place seemed exceptionally quiet considering the number of children who live in the mansion. Benson got out to open the gate and directed us through. We drove inside the perimeter and pulled the air brakes before getting out and cautiously approaching the front door with our weapons at the ready. Dad had a key to let us in, but the house was eerily silent inside. That’s odd.
Dad ordered my group to check out the living room and kitchen area, sent the soldiers to clear the basement and Beau and his helpers to the sleeping areas. When we met back at the entryway, we learned what took place in our absence.
We now knew why the house was quiet without the normal sounds of children laughing and playing. Except for the guards, everyone was hiding down in the basement where a bullet couldn’t reach them. As soon as the sun began to lower in the horizon tonight, an unknown assailant began shooting at the kids and guards. Pete and Hector were on duty and although they didn’t see anyone, they fired their weapons in the direction where the shots came from hoping for a lucky hit. After what seemed like an eternity, the gunshots ended and they’ve been surveilling for enemy movement ever since.
Pete and Hector saw us drive up, but could tell that we were already armed and on guard. They didn’t want to break our concentration by yelling out to us. Instead, Hector kept watch over us with an M4 as Pete hurried downstairs to meet with Dad and fill him in.
We spent the rest of a very uncomfortable night attempting to sleep in the basement wherever we could find an open spot. I was lucky enough to score one of the recliners and so with Coco nestled in my lap, I struggled to fall asleep. It wasn’t easy with the memories of the killing we’d done during the day. Whether it was karma or just bad timing, someone was now trying to kill us.
What was more infuriating than anything is that it’s now pretty clear that these are the same people who left the gate open for the zombies to get inside. Two kids are dead now and another struggling for his life because of them. We can now rightly assume that the bullet Dr. Taylor removed from the boy wasn’t a ricochet, but had hit its intended target. Someone is out to get us and there’s nothing we can do about it until morning. They have the cover of night in their favor and we are without night vision goggles. With all the things we found in the storage unit and brought here with us, this would have made the difference.
Dad said that the situation will be remedied soon. He seems calm and in control, I realize that he’s doing his best to maintain control while he’s furious inside. I would feel sorry for whoever he’s plotting against, but they brought it on themselves. We will retaliate and they deserve the outcome.
Bright and early the next morning, Dad, Beau and Sawyer began tracing where this person or people came from. Benson and I tagged along to cover their backs, but Pete, Hector and the rest of the group stayed at the house to protect the women and children. We couldn’t very well send them out to work on the fences today and we’re getting closer and closer to the point where our very survival depends on these jobs being completed.
Chapter Fifteen
Redneck Church Barbeque
“It's not mere extremism that makes folks at the fringes so troubling; it's extremism wedded to false beliefs. Humans have long been dupes, easily gulled by rumors and flat-out lies.”
Jeffrey Kluger
We followed the tracks they left which was easy with all the footprints in the soft soil, the broken branches and smashed plant life. The signs ended at the paved roadway about a half mile down from the main house and we would have lost them there except that they left a trail that could be seen better than Hansel and Gretel’s bread crumbs.
Someone waited in this spot to pick up the assailants who came to the ranch set on massacring our people. While the driver waited, they chain smoked. This was obvious by the mound of cigarette butts left on the ground – all the same brand – and the puddle of oil where the vehicle had sat. It would be a simple matter to track them on pavement now that we know what to look for. We just need to follow the trail of cigarette butts and dripping oil.
Instead of attempting to follow them on foot, we returned to the complex and left again in one of the ranch’s white passenger vans. The vans are quiet and much better on fuel than either the semis or buses that we’ve been using to gather supplies or the troop transports, but there’s still plenty of room for all five of us to ride comfortably. Of course, comfort was the last thing on our minds right now. We were furious as hell and in a state of shock at the same time. It was a solemn drive into town as we followed the trail the attackers unwittingly left for us.
As the van travelled along the bumps and dips of the roadway, we were all quietly coming to terms with the fact that we may be required to kill living, breathing humans today. In fact, the way that things looked right now, there’ll be no other choice. We can’t allow these people to continue committing acts of violence against unarmed children.
We’ve all killed zombies and the soldiers have combat experience overseas, but this is different. The zombies are already dead and in their overseas deployment, the soldiers fought against a foreign enemy. This enemy struck on our own soil by taking advantage of the defenselessness of the teenagers. There’ll be no judge and no jury. The crimes of these unknown attackers speak for themselves.
The trail of cigarettes and oil ended near an old-fashioned white framed church with a steeple on top that held a bell used to call worshippers to services. We stopped our vehicle a block away and parked it behind an abandoned building, hoping that no one saw us approach. The parking lot of the church was filled with people attending worship services, but so far, no one reacted differently since we arrived or called out an alarm. Under Dad’s directions, we approached the building from the back where the tree line led almost the entire way to the structure itself. From here we’ll have plenty of cover and a perfect line of sight.
We spread out in sets of two and splayed flat on the ground, not daring to move or draw attention to ourselves in any way. I lay on my stomach next to Terek and pulled broken branches and other brush on top of me as a natural camouflage. He was already dressed in camo, and had no difficulty blending into the environment. We lay motionless and remained as quiet as possible although I have to admit that Terek is like Dad. It’s scary how good he is at this and how easy he makes it seem.
I suppose that’s one of the many things they teach in the Navy Seal training.
A small number of men from the church were leaning against cars in the parking lot laughing uproariously about how the children at the complex were terrified when they opened fire on them and ran for their lives. They were disappointed that no one had died, but they’d bide their time and keep coming back until every one of us was dead.
One of the men, a skinny fellow who needed a shave and bath, was bragging about having shot the young man who is back home struggling for his life and joking about what horrible aims the others must have been. My first reaction is to jump up, walk over and shoot the asshole between the eyes, but I know Dad has a better plan and it won’t end up getting us all killed. Giving into anger will only cause trouble and put us all in danger.
After another hour, the people began to work their way indoors, which was propitious because it’ll be easier to get them cornered if they’re all in one location instead of spread out. Their arrogance is such that they never even considered that we might follow them here to exact our vengeance. They have no guards assigned.
I began thinking that this might be easier than we had planned, but learned how complicated the situation could become when a boy of about four years of age walked down the steps of the church and approached the scraggy man. “Do I have to go to classes today?” the little boy questioned with sad eyes.
“No! Of course you do, you idiot! You know that Brother Brown expects you kids to be in there learnin’ your bible lessons. You don’t want me to go tellin’ him that you ain’t gonna do what he said, do ya?” threatened the man with a sneer.
The little boy looked down at the ground and with tears in his eyes, then turned and walked inside. After a few more moments, the parking lot was emptied and sounds of voices singing “Amazing Grace” could be overheard outside the building. If we didn’t know these people were murderers and had only now walked up to the building, we might have assumed that they were normal people attending church. That’s not the case, however. These people are cold blooded murderers.
A few moments after they went inside, I felt a tug at my foot, which is a signal from my dad to leave our position and gather in a predetermined area behind where we are. I was careful when rising to my feet in case there were any stragglers we might’ve missed. I crawled several yards back and then used a tree with thick branches as cover before rising to my feet. It could be dangerous for the enemy to find out we’re here before we have time to put our plan into action.
We met together at the staging area to make plans. My mission was to drive the van back to the complex as quickly as possible to gather every able bodied person who knows how to shoot a weapon and who won’t have a problem killing these vermin. I left the men at and left without looking back. They’ll keep up surveillance and leave a marker directing us where to follow should the congregants decide to up and leave before we return.
I probably drove faster than is safe, but lives are depending on me and to be honest, I drive more professionally than the majority of the population. I’ve been taking training of one sort or another since I was old enough to get a license. Not only did I learn combat techniques from an early age, but how to drive semis, buses and cars under vast ranges of conditions. My driver’s training wasn’t the type where a frazzled instructor sits on the passenger side of the car and tells you to turn left at the stop sign. I had the kind of training that’s taught to law enforcement and professional truck drivers in boot camp style. That’s how I know how to drive a semi-truck and bus. I was unknowingly being prepared for the zombie apocalypse.
When I reached the ranch, I threw the gate open, but didn’t bother moving the van into the yard before running to the door and rushing inside. I almost bumped into Pete, who was coming to open the door when he saw that I returned by myself, and explained what Dad was asking us to do. Thankfully, he immediately took over and began barking orders and within seconds had people running about grabbing weapons and ammunition, ready to head out the door to help. The teenagers were told to lock the main doors behind us when we left and go down to the basement, lock themselves up in the game room, and push furniture against the doors to block it. They were ordered not to open the doors to anyone until we told them it was safe to exit.
All able bodied adults who could fire a weapon and didn’t have children to care for joined us outside, prepared to kill if needed. We drove three of the ranch’s vans and quickly headed back the way that I came from. When we arrived at the staging area, Dad was still in position, which was fortunate. It would be difficult to follow through on our plans if our enemy split up and went separate directions. As it is, the plan is a good one, but things can change in the heat of battle. We’re only human and none of us is perfect.
The vans were left in the staging area while we worked our way back to the little church, making certain to be quiet and avoid getting spotted. Eleven of us surrounded the building in case someone attempted to escape through one of the many stained glass windows, but we focused primarily on entrances and exits. When Dad gave the signal, it was time to split into our groups to execute the plan.
The soldiers, Dad, Beau, Pete, Greg and Hector headed to the sanctuary where the parishioners were now listening to a very loud sermon that could be heard outside of the building. Terek, Jason, a couple of teachers and I began working our way to the back of the structure where the classrooms were located.
We entered the building quietly, doing our best not to give our positions away. We checked doors as we moved along. At the end of the hallway, just past the restrooms and water fountain we found two rooms full of children. One was a nursery with infants and toddlers – many still in diapers. There was a connecting room with children of school age. A teenage boy who was the size of a grown man watched over them as they read aloud from their books.
We silently counted off and entered both rooms at the same time, separating the older teen from the children. I’m sure that what we were about to do would seem unconscionable to some, but this is an apocalypse and survival of the fittest. When these people attacked us unprovoked, they left us with no choice.
At the same time we were entering the classrooms, Dad’s crew moved silently into the sanctuary and now held the dumbfounded and furious parishioners at gunpoint. A couple of the men attempted to draw their weapons and ended up with a rifle butt being smashed into their faces. Realizing that our people meant business, the church members dropped their weapons to the ground.
Just before our men entered the sanctuary, the preacher had been back and forth in a rant, banging on the pulpit and shaking his bible in the air as he used biblical verses to justify murdering the innocent. “But you are a chosen people, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, God's special possession, that you may declare the praises of him who called you out of darkness into his wonderful light,” he quoted.
“Don’t look at the undead as a thorn in your flesh, Brethren. This is Gawd’s way of separating the wheat from the chaff. Now it is our duty as His chosen people to rid the earth of the Godless sinners that remain.”
The congregation was nodding their heads in agreement and mumbling “Amen” and “Hallelujah” when our people marched in.
“You’re so right, reverend.” interrupted Dad. “It’s time to separate those who murder innocent children from those who are trying to build a safe place for survivors to live together in peace.”
Five minutes later, they were leading the worshippers down to the basement to answer for their sins.
The teenager in the classroom, a boy the size of a large man with muscles of someone who’s either worked out regularly or has worked hard most of his life was glaring at me with eyes filled with hatred. It was easy to see that the plan wouldn’t work as long as he remained in the room. He had to be separated from the children.
I left the others to supervise the children and surprised them by pointing my weapon at the young man’s head and ordering him into the hallway. He sn
eered at me with the attitude of a man who believes women are weak and that he has an advantage. Even though I’m still hurting, I took my pain medication as prescribed this morning, so I’m good to go. When we reached the other end of the hallway, the boy/man tried to snatch the gun from my hands. Expecting this and being ready for him, I stepped back, causing the attacker to lose his balance.
I took advantage of the moment and snapped my weapon back in the holster then grabbed the combat knife tied to the leg of my pants. I could have shot him, but unlike the church goers, I didn’t want to traumatize small children any more than they already are. I’d rather do this quietly and not let them be the wiser. When he came at me again with rage written all over his face, I kneed him in the balls then reached behind his neck and inserted the sharp blade into the base of his skull, severing his brain stem just like my dad trained me.
He fell to the ground, but I couldn’t let the children see his dead body, so I took his feet and pulled him into the next open room, then shut the door. It’s amazing how heavy a dead body is. I didn’t have time to wipe the blood up, but instead covered it by dumping a pile of books out of a shelf that I found in the hallway and added a curtain ripped off a nearby window. If no one looks too closely, they won’t be able to detect anything other than a mess that needs to be picked up.
After washing my hands in the water fountain to remove some of the blood, I strode back to the classrooms and after giving Terek a thumbs up in answer to his raised eyebrow, told the others it was time to leave. With six older children, a few toddlers and a couple of babies, we walked the few blocks back to the staging area and lifted the kids into the waiting vans. The older ones were frightened and didn’t want to leave with us at first until we explained that their parents wanted us to keep them safe and take care of them.
Nuclear Undead (Book 1): Wake the Dead Page 20