by Kirk Allmond
One of the things that has developed over time is the instinctual understanding of how the others on our team work. I didn’t have to issue direct orders to them, and really I didn’t like to. They were my partners, not my subordinates. Bookbinder would have a fit about that, but I just wasn’t in a position to give orders to them.
Every time I glanced over at Sanders he was staring right at me. His aura bounced quickly between purple and black. Not black like zombies; which is more of an ‘empty’ or ‘lack’ of aura, but black that blocked out what was behind it. It really weirded me out. He was shifting from foot to foot, and reaching behind his back every few seconds. I spent most of my time looking at the people I was talking to. I really did need to focus on them some too, they’d remember this speech and these moments afterward for a while to come, and I didn’t want to give them the opinion that I was disingenuous.
I shook hands with a man about five feet away from Sanders, he clapped me on the back as he told me his name was George Spencer, and that he was a high school gym teacher. He thanked me for saving his family as we shook. I think those words of thanks set Sanders off. His aura went deep black and he reached behind his back and pulled out what can only be described as a hand cannon, a Desert Eagle .50 caliber pistol that looked absolutely massive in his hand. Looking at the barrel, the hole at the end looked to be the size of a quarter.
Still holding Georges hand from our handshake, I used that to pull him out of the way, so it was just me and Sanders. I threw my hands up palms out.
“Ken, Ken Sanders, right?”
“How do you know my name? You don’t know anything. You saved everyone else, you’re the big hero, making speeches and everyone loves you. But you didn’t save everyone. You failed. I trusted you; I put down my gun and trusted you when you said you’d save my family. I should have shot you and let the zombies have you. I should have done what they wanted; then my family would be alive.”
As he spoke, he was waiving his gun around. The crowd was starting to panic.
“Whoa, Ken. Keep the gun on me. I’m the one you’re angry with.” I said as I took a step forward. “Ken, I’m not a hero. I’m just a guy who lost his wife, and is trying to keep the last family I have alive. I know you’re hurting, but this isn’t the answer. I didn’t save your family, and I’ll be sorry about that for the rest of my life, Ken.”
“Not as sorry as I am.” said Ken, as he firmed his grip on the gun.
“Ken, you’re not a killer. I’m a living, breathing person. I’m not a zombie; I’m a living human being.” I stepped forward again. Now I was about two feet away from the barrel of the monstrous gun.
“You got my wife killed, and now I’m going to kill you!” He yelled, the gun shaking in his hand. A shadow finger crossed over the trigger and squeezed to fire the gun. That finger solidified, and I watched his finger cover the trigger. Shadows shot out of me, in one I side stepped him, as he fired, and the bullet decimated a small child standing a dozen feet behind me. I saw the hammer cock back on the gun, and heard the shot.
I tried zagging the other way, and this time it was a very tall man who took the shot to the gut. I tried kicking his legs out from under him, the bullet flew wild and hit my mother in the cheek. Every course of action I tried ended up with someone dying. Given those options, I steeled myself. My life was no more important than any other. I readied myself for the pain; I raised my arms, making myself as easy a target as possible. I took a deep breath as his finger squeezed the trigger. The hammer cocked back, I heard the shot. A searing pain hit my face.
When I opened my eyes, Sanders was looking at the shattered gun in his hand with a look of shock on his face. The tip of the barrel was crushed inward from the side, and John was running towards us. Leo appeared behind him out of nowhere and twisted his arms behind his back.
“Tookes, you okay?” yelled John.
“Yeah. Face hurts,” I said. Which actually wasn’t true, it had dulled to a slight burn.
“Sorry about that, mate. I’ve never tried to shoot a bullet out of the air before. I didn’t expect it to shatter like that. I guess my bullet ricocheted into the barrel when his bullet shattered.”
“John, you shot the bullet out of the air? Why didn’t you just shoot his gun out of his hands? And could you have at least stopped running when you fired?” I asked.
“Where’s the fun in that?” He asked with a twinkle in his eye and the barest hint of a smile.
I walked off leading Sanders to the old kitchen. I had been overconfident in my own abilities, and that almost got me killed. Without my friends, I was dead. That lesson will stick with me for as long as I live.
Once we were in the old summer kitchen building, I sat Sanders down in a chair.
“Ken. Now what am I going to do with you? There are no courts. There are no police to call. I’m not going to kill you, but I can’t have you trying to kill me. If you’re a danger to these people, I can’t have you here, but turning you out without a weapon is the same as killing you.”
“Tookes, just kill me. I don’t want to live. Without my family, I have nothing. Their blood is on your hands.”
“Ken I tried as hard as I could to save every family there. Your family was gone by the time I got there. I killed all of the zombies responsible, but they were following orders from someone. That’s who you should be angry at. I’m sorry your family is dead. Everyone here has lost someone they love. There is nothing I can do to bring them back. But I can avenge them. I can avenge my wife, and you can help me avenge your family. I need every man I can get, Sanders. I need you, I need your help. I need you on my side; I need your help to kill every one of them.”
“What do you want me to do? You’ll never trust me!” Ken replied.
“Ken, if you give me your word, if you tell me that you’re going to help me avenge your family, if you swear to me that you’ll never kill a human, unless your own life or the life of someone in this camp depends on it, I’ll take your word for it. If you give me your word as a father, as a husband and as a son, I’m willing to forget about today.”
“Tookes!” exclaimed John. “You let this dude go; he’s going to try it again. You can’t trust him.”
“What choice do I have, John? All a man has these days is his word. Ken knows that. Everyone deserves a second chance.”
“A second chance to kill you!” said Leo. “Tookes, this is madness. Turn him out.”
“We can’t do that. It’s not right. It’s my life he tried to take, and this is my decision. Ken, if you’re willing to give me your word, we can put this behind us.”
“I’m not willing to do that.” said Ken flatly, just before he pulled a long knife from his boot and lunged at my throat.
32. Daycare
I’d watched Sanders form this plan; he thought first about going for a gut shot, I presume because it would hurt. An interesting thing about those who can’t see the outcome of their decisions, they seldom consider more than one. As soon as I saw the shadow of choice fly out of him, I figured out my counter move.
As he lunged, I stepped forward and to the left, pinning his knife arm between my left arm and body, I then spun around to my right, breaking his arm. That was the part I saw in my decision. I could not however, see that Leo was going to rush in at the last second and smash Sanders in the head with a baton. I don’t suppose I could blame her. When she hit him, he collapsed against me, right as I folded his broken arm completely on itself. The knife, still held in his useless arm slid easily into his throat as he fell. He looked at me with sad eyes as he laid on the floor bleeding out. I jumped down beside him, unsure if I should pull the knife out or leave it. What do you do in that type of situation? Ultimately, I sat there feeling useless as he died.
We carried his body out of the old kitchen, and laid him out on a steel table in the slaughter house. It was the closest thing to a morgue we had.
I knew that killing a human was something that I would have to process at some point,
but I had to deal with it later. Right now, I had a million things on my plate. I shoved the whole situation to the back of my mind. I just couldn’t think about it right then.
With Sanders corpse taken care of, I returned to the small dining room of the main house, which I’d sort of converted to my office. When I got there, I found Bookbinder waiting on me.
“Hey Charlie,” I said, exhausted. “You have those fire teams ready?”
“Yes, sir. I know you got held up with that Sanders situation, I didn’t want to bother you, but I’d like to get to work on this tonight.”
“Sure thing, Charlie. Tell me what you’ve got.”
“I grouped the men into teams. I had six men with some training. I made five teams. I’m leading one team; I have the most experience of any of the men. I’ve designated our team M1. M2 is led by Daily, M3 by Scott, M4 by Levitt, and M5 by Johnson. Johnson has no operational experience, but was enrolled in the police academy when this all happened. I put Baker with him, Baker is a retired cop, but still strong and will guide Johnson.”
“I’d like to take Levitt’s team tonight on a run out to Orange. There’s a daycare there that we should hit for diapers, formula and wipes, and other baby stuff, plus toys. I made a run out past there a few weeks ago before we got caught by Watley. The daycare was empty, there aren’t any little kids in there, I banged on the window.”
“Charlie, if you go out there and there’s a whole bunch of baby zombies locked in the basement, what are you going to do?”
“I’ll assess the status of the men, if they can handle it, then we’ll proceed. If they’re going to freak out, then we’ll abort. For me, I’m not sure I could leave a baby like that. I’d have to end its suffering.”
“Still, I’d like to avoid any more men snapping like Sanders did.” I said.
“Yes sir. We’ll handle it, or we’ll bug out.” He said as he stood to leave.
“Hey Charlie,” I said stalling him. “Thanks. You’re a good man.”
“I’m happy to have a job to do. All the men will be happy to have a job.” He said with a smile.
It had been a long day. I was exhausted, and mentally drained. I climbed the stairs to my room, stopping outside my door to take my boots off. I was grateful for everything I had these days, and I said a quick thank you that I wasn’t one of the ones pulled out of my bed in the night. A thank you that I was able to save some clothes, toys and tools and not be starting over here with nothing.
I walked through my room to the door to Max’s room, which was slightly cracked. I peeked in on him, he was sleeping peacefully. I covered him up with his favorite blanket, tucked his red furry Elmo under his arm, and kissed him on the forehead. He was warm, but not hot. He smelled like Max. He looked so much like his mother laying there, sleeping in the same position she always slept in. On his back, one arm on his stomach, one arm behind his head, left knee kicked out to the side. I was so glad to have him to remind me of her. Little three and a half year old Max, all of forty-two inches tall somehow filled up a whole twin bed. I kissed him one more time on the forehead and said, “Good night little buddy. I love you.” and he stirred a little in his sleep.
When I walked out into my room, shutting the door behind me, there was Leo, holding a pillow and a blanket. “Vic, can I stay with you tonight? I brought my own pillow.”
I strode forward and grabbed her, pulling her to me, holding her close as our lips met again. Still kissing, our lips parted only when I pulled her shirt up over head, then mine. The lust between us was palpable; I pulled her down onto my bed, where we spent our first night together exploring the passion we’d tried to deny since the day we met.
When I woke up the next morning, I went downstairs and poured a cup of coffee. As I took my first sip of coffee I said, “Thank you God for coffee.” Charlie Bookbinder came walking up the steps, covered in dirt and gore, and wearing a huge smile on his face. He handed me a written report, and said “Permission to get some rack time, sir.”
“Only if you go upstairs and take a shower Charlie.”
“No thank you sir, I’ll go wash off in the river with the men.”
“You’re an amazing man, Charlie.” I said to him. “You’re dismissed.”
I still have every single mission report any of those men filed.
M4 Mission One Log:
DATE: 08/13/2011
Objective 1: Clear Tenderhearts Daycare Center
Objective 2: Building breach training
Objective 3: Obtain toys and consumables for the children
RESULT: All objectives complete.
Recovered Assets:
6 boxes size two diapers
7.5 boxes size three diapers
5.5 boxes size four diapers
6 boxes size five diapers
3 large trash bags miscellaneous clothes, size one to 3T
2 large trash bags small plastic toys
2 Rubbermaid totes full of puzzles
2 Rubbermaid totes full of children’s board games
4 large Rubbermaid totes full of children’s books
1 large Rubbermaid tote full of action figures
1 large Rubbermaid tote full of dolls
Operational notes:
M4 was briefed in-route to target, Tenderhearts Daycare, about the possibility of infant and/or toddler undead.
It was agreed and assigned that any small hostiles present would be dispatched with extreme prejudice. The men were briefed on basic breaching principals, modified for the specific target building and possible occupants. Arrived on location in two trucks at 23:00 hours. Six men spread out, Jimmy Day levered the front doors open with a crowbar, and backed out into the street. One man was stationed at each corner of the building, and four men held the front doors. After prying the doors open, Day hit the horn on the truck and turned on the lights to help illuminate the interior.
Zero hostiles were found inside. Men cleared room by room, each of the men was given the opportunity and training experience to forcibly open a door and clear the room expecting hostile combatants. When the entire facility was deemed secure, the said assets were loaded onto the two trucks. We closed the building up and secured the doors with a chain and friendly padlock, code 22-10-31, for further exploration.
About one klick outside of town, we encountered a small force of slow moving hostiles, numbering twenty-four. There was no sign of a handler/ leader nearby. Bookbinder, Day, and Levitt dispatched the force using hand to hand weapons, while the remaining force flanked the hostiles to provide covering fire should the need arise. Day has a fire/police halligan, Levitt chose an aluminum bat, and Bookbinder used KA-BAR Marine Combat Knife. All weapons proved efficient at dispatching hostiles with minimal noise and zero ammunition used.
Mission report filed by Charlie Bookbinder, Tookes Brigade, Leader Fire Team M1.
33. The Supply Run
We buried Sanders with about ten people in attendance early that morning. Marshall, always the guy who gets things done, had the hole dug near the old cemetery on the property by about ten in the morning, and had built a box for the body. Those of us who wanted to see him off to the next life loaded up in the pickup trucks and bounced down through the field to say a few final words about a man who’d lost everything, including his humanity.
When that was done, I had an itch to get off the property. We needed so much; the only real debate was what to go for first. We met with Bookbinder, his teams one, two, and three were headed off today to look for food and fuel. That left us to go on more humanitarian type missions. I was most worried about housing, clothing, and sanitation. I’d always sworn that Wal-Mart and Sams Club were the last places I would want to go. However, the needs outweighed my common sense. One building clear, and we could stock up on almost everything, including I hoped, a tractor trailer.
Marshall, Leo, John, and I loaded up in the Jeep, and headed off to town about 10:00am. We rolled with all the ammo we had left, that situation was getting pretty dire. We we
re all talking about conserving ammunition all the way to our first target, Wal-Mart.
When we pulled into the parking lot, we immediately revamped our plan. Every car in the parking lot was pulled around the building, bumper to bumper, forming a ring around the store. On the roof, after a study though the scope on Sammie, my rifle, I determined that there were three zombies walking slowly. They had very little motor control, and after four months up on the roof in the blazing sun, they were starting to look pretty bad. They saw us coming as we walked up towards the front doors, and one by one, all three of them walked right off the roof trying to get us.
Only one didn’t smash his head open on the concrete. He laid there for a long time snapping his jaws at me. He looked like a monster out of some cheap horror movie, almost all the flesh gone from one side of his face, scraped off by the impact with the hard parking lot. He couldn’t move anything below his jaw. Marshall calmly walked over and stepped on its head, ending its suffering for good.
The doors to the building were chained from the inside. We walked all the way around the building, checking every door. Finally, we reached the roll up doors in the back, where the tractor trailers were. There were still two rigs backed up to the loading docks, but the doors had been rolled down. I walked up to one and tested it, but it wouldn’t budge. Marshall bent down beside me, strained a little bit, and ripped the door upward with a very loud crash of metal ripping and tearing. I don’t think he opened it as much as he just ripped it upwards out of its tracks. The steel slatted door was dented upwards where his hands were, I’m not sure how much ‘weight’ that would equal, but it had to have taken a lot of force.
“Jesus, Marshall,” I said “I’m glad you’re on my side. What the hell was in your Wheaties?”