“Unfortunately, I had several of those things jump up onto the hood and the running boards and start pounding on the windows. I went to yell at my family to stop screaming until I realized I was yelling louder than they were. I’m surprised I didn’t wet myself.” He gulped at the memory.
“I put the accelerator down to the floor and drove at 100 mph down a side street. I must have hit a dozen more of them. Still, these things managed to hold on. They were pounding on the windshield and window as hard as they could while they held on with their other hands. They had no fear. My daughters kept trying to get out of the way as these things pushed their faces up against the glass. If I stopped, I would have killed everyone. So I tried to scrape them off by sideswiping parked cars. It didn’t work. They held on.
“As I drove around, I saw your house. It was at the top of this here hill.” Sam pointed down at the city. I knew where my house was.
He continued, “I turned in with these things climbing all over our car and drove up as fast as I could. I slammed on the brakes when I almost hit your fence. I couldn’t see with that thing on top of us. And then you saved us.” He stopped. The story was over. There really was nothing else to say.
We stared out into the driving rain looking for threats. There were none. The driveway was a swamp. There was no way for any of those things to attack us. We were safe for the moment. Even the dogs had given up long ago and were lying in the garage on their warm blankets. It was time for us to take a break.
I pulled out my Indian War Club and walked over to the wooden targets. I slung my rifle and started to hit them as hard as I could. There was always time for practice even in storms like this.
I looked over and saw Sam hitting the wood even harder than I was. He was beating the damn thing so hard I was actually afraid he was going to splinter it. I smiled at him.
After about a minute he stopped when he saw me looking at him. He laughed at what he was doing. I nodded, and he continued. He needed to beat the shit out of something, and I was glad it wasn’t me. He was in a mood.
When he was so tired he couldn’t lift his arms, he stopped and looked at me. I saw his hands were bleeding. He had rubbed them raw.
I smiled at the sight. “Sam, you are not defined by your past, but what you do in the future. You think you failed yourself and your family. You didn’t. You did the best you could, and you kept them alive. That was and is the primary purpose of every good father. Despite what you think, you succeeded. You are not a failure.” I saw him start to disagree. I continued, “I’m not complimenting you for pity’s sake. I don’t do that.” He knew that much was true.
I went on, “The question is what you’re going to do in the future. You were caught unprepared. Everyone was. Now you’re prepared. How are you going to respond? I have full faith in you.”
I turned and walked away. I was tired of the rain and needed to get warm. As I walked inside I heard him start to beat on his target. It took a lot of balls to do that with actively bloodied hands.
He was going to be just fine.
Chapter 7
Finally, the rain stopped and so did our rest. Over the past week, we did our work but not too much of it. We traipsed around in the rain and pretended to actually patrol. Everything was cut short. The crops were too muddy to weed. The animals stayed indoors. The Zeds stayed at the bottom of the hill. All in all, the rest was satisfying.
Unfortunately for the family, I used the time to have the adults and the kids train. The constant beating of the wooden targets continued and actually increased. The family was getting tougher and tougher. After they beat the wood to death, I made them run and climb and exercise to their fullest. They would be prepared. We skipped actual shooting but increased weapons maintenance exercises. Everything was pristine.
When the rain finally stopped, the yard was a swamp. Huge puddles of water were everywhere. To bring life back into the camp I had the kids go outside and jump and dive in them. Within minutes, we were all covered in mud. Even the adults got into the act. It was a lot of fun. It had been a long time since I saw the kids actually enjoying themselves. It was a good reminder to the adults what we were fighting for.
Slowly but surely, as the water receded in a humidity-filled couple of days, things returned to normal. We received several visits from hungry Zeds, and we quickly and quietly dispatched them. We all took turns so that we could practice live fire on semi live targets. Unfortunately the bodies were piling up, and we would have to do something about it soon- but not today. The ground was still super saturated with water.
My five year old came out to visit with his Walkie-Talkies. I thought he wanted to play which made me smile. Kids always found time to play even in the worst of situations.
“Dad, this is for you.” He handed me the device and surprisingly walked away. All right I would play the game. I was bored anyway. I walked through the yard away from him getting ready to speak.
“Come in good buddy. Who’s the best son in the whole wide world?” I wished I could see his expression. It made me smile just saying it.
I heard, “Oh thank the Lord. I’ve been trying to get through on this thing for over a week.” It didn’t sound like my son’s voice or his speech pattern. My kid was five.
I thought, ‘he must have handed it to one of the adults to mess with me.’
The cheap little device squelched at me. “I’m trapped in my house with those things outside of my door. Please help me.” It sounded genuine. And the voice was female.
“Uh, hi. I’m John Miller. I’m at home.” I didn’t know what else to say. I still wasn’t convinced.
“Oh Thank God! I thought I was all alone!” She screeched it out at me. She was obviously scared out of her mind.
She continued. “Wait, are you Doctor Miller?” With that question, I knew the voice on the other end was real. Shit.
That made me nervous that she knew exactly who I was, and I didn’t have a clue who she was. “Yes I am.”
“I knew it! This is Theresa Newman. You saved my life last year. You did a quadruple bypass on me. And I’ve been great ever since.”
I tried to place the name and the voice. I didn’t have even a faint recollection of her. I was terrible with names. I was great with faces. I would know her when I saw her. I hoped. Then again I saw so many patients over the years, once they were out of my office they were sometimes gone forever.
I kept my voice light. “How have you been?”
She said, “The surgery was awesome, thanks. You saved my life. I’m not doing too good right now.” She giggled nervously.
“Where are you?” I was intrigued that I was talking to her on this little toy box.
“I’m about two blocks north of you. I always passed your house on the way to the grocery store. I remember thinking that I helped pay for that house.” She laughed at that.
It made me cringe. I hated it when patients pointed out that I made a lot more money than they did. It made me feel guilty and a little pissed, because I gave up my twenties and part of my thirties working like a dog to get here.
I looked north. I saw storefronts and not much else. Zeds were walking around like they were mingling at a cocktail party looking to score. There were hundreds of them. I couldn’t see any houses.
I wasn’t sure so I asked again, “Be more specific. I’m not sure where your house is.”
She laughed loud at that. “No I don’t live in a house. I live above Lakeside Bar and Grill on the corner of Green and Main.”
I knew exactly where that was. I walked forward to the gate and looked downhill. I saw the bar from where I was standing, and I cringed. This was not good. I grabbed my rifle and looked through the Zeiss scope. I saw Zeds walking in and out of the bar. There had to be a good dozen of them milling about under her window.
She said, “I can hear them downstairs. They must all need a drink.” I heard a scared cackle coming from the Walkie-Talkie.
She was completely screwed. I didn’t s
ee any way that she would get out of this alive. No diversion in the world would get rid of all of the Zeds hovering around her.
She said, “I’m pretty hungry. I ran out of food a couple of days ago. Luckily the tap water still works.”
My wife stood behind me listening with my crew. They all came out wondering what was occurring. I shook my head in the negative at her.
I talked into the device, “Are you injured in any way?”
“No, I’m just tired and scared. I feel weak. I’ve been living on cat food because that’s all I have. I keep looking at the cat as I share her food and think that she would taste a lot better than Fancy Feast.” She giggled nervously. She was kidding, sort of. I had no answer.
“What do we do?” The question came from my wife.
I shrugged in response. I had absolutely no idea what to do. There was no way I was allowing any of my people out into that riot of Zombies to get the poor woman out. It was a suicide mission.
“So, I’m kind of screwed aren’t I?” She tried to say it lightly and failed. She knew the truth. My heart sank. She sensed what I was thinking.
“That’s yet to be determined. We have to figure out a plan.” I tried to stay upbeat. I’d been dealing with patients for over a decade, all of whom were on the edge of death without treatment. Some lived, some died, but always, I managed to remain positive for them.
But for the moment, I had no idea what to do. “I have to come up with a plan. Let me think about it, and I’ll get back to you in one hour.”
She said, “My batteries are running low, and I have no other ones. I’m going to turn it off and turn it on at exactly 3 pm. Are you still going to be there?”
I heard the concern and the loneliness in her voice. She was on the edge, and she knew it. I thought that I’d been the only human she had contact with over the past several days or longer. Combine that with the undead walking around her door, she must have been on the edge of madness. At least I would have.
I gave my solemn oath. “I promise I’ll be there- guaranteed. Let me think.” I clicked off.
I looked at the people around me. I shook my head ‘no.’ I started to pace.
Our newest guest Carolyn said, “She’s going to die, isn’t she?” It was the worst downer anybody could have said. I didn’t like that. I gave her a dirty look. I saw her turn red and look down. I walked away. I moved back to the garage and went to the gun safe. I put my thumb imprint on it, and it swung open.
I started to pull out several guns and lay them on the cars. I had a choice of multiple weapons ranging from .22s to .338s. I thought it over. This was going to be a bitch. All I needed to penetrate a head was a .22. However, that was a long way- over 600 yards. I wasn’t sure that I could make a mid-body shot let alone a head shot at that range. It wouldn’t do. Even the .300 Winchester Magnum was a long shot at my skill level. Don’t get me wrong, I was a good shot. But that was a long way, and I didn’t have the military training to take on long range moving targets. It would have to be the . 338 Lapua by Barrett. It was a great weapon, and when I missed, which I was sure to do, it would probably knock the target down at the very least. Then I hoped that I would be able to hit the body. I was highly skeptical of that.
I put the other rifles away and took out 100 rounds of .338 along with a laser range finder. I moved out to the drive and looked at my people. When I fired, I would draw a crowd. I was sure of that. The weapon was damn loud. I brought it out and carried it up to one of my big deer stands. I forgot how heavy it was.
I set it up and looked through the scope. I could see everything. I looked around for a good five minutes. Zombie after Zombie crossed and entered the bright red dot in the center. The scope made them look like they were right in front of me. I knew it was an optical illusion. I loaded the five magazines with ten rounds each, leaving fifty more rounds in the box. I climbed down and got a laser range finder- the distance was 650 to 725 yards. That was a hell of a long way. I never fired above 600 yards before. Most of the time, I practiced at less than 300 yards. Oh well, there was a first time for everything. This was going to be a bitch.
I ran around to the backyard and grabbed a couple of sand bags that I kept on hand for shooting along with a shooter’s pad. I also grabbed glasses and hearing protection. The gun was very loud.
I was coming up with a plan. I walked up to my group and looked at all of them.
“I give it a 50:50 shot this may work. Who knows? It’s worth a shot anyway.”
They looked at me like I was crazy. I had to agree with them. I was just winging this.
I started slowly. “I’m going up there, and I am going to try and shoot as many of them in the head as possible. The woman is going to have to climb out her window and make a run for it. You guys are going to be along the fence line killing all of the Zeds who are attracted to the sound of gunfire. There’s going to be a lot of them. Think you can handle that?” I smiled reassuringly.
Carolyn looked at me like I was nuts. “You think you can shoot those things from a half mile out?”
I laughed at that. “We’re going to see. I have no idea. Let’s give it a shot.” They didn’t smile at the pun at all. They had no sense of humor. I finished, “Go get a lot more ammo.”
They left and I grabbed the Walkie-Talkie. I had no idea what channel the toy was set to otherwise I would have used big boy equipment.
“Are you there Theresa? We’re getting ready for you.”
“I’m right here Doc. Not like I have any other place to go.” I heard a bitter laugh. The woman was dying inside.
I ignored it. “Here’s the plan. You’re going to run out your front door and up to us after I kill everything on the street. I’m going to pave your way with bullets. How’s that sound?”
“Swell. There’s no way in Hell I can run out my door. There’s a whole bunch of bad guys just waiting for me in the hall way.” Theresa sounded depressed.
I thought about it a second. I was getting tired of this scenario already. There was always another fly in the ointment. “Can you jump or climb out your window? Can you make a rope out of bed sheets or something and tie it off inside your room?”
I heard nothing for a few seconds. Then she came back on the air. “I think I can do it. I’m going to twist some sheets together and tie them to the radiator. It’s going to take me a while though.” She sounded scared and unsure of herself.
I kept it upbeat. “You can do it. It’s going to take me a while to shoot those things. We can’t have you trying until they’re all gone, understand?” I tried to make it sound like I could do this. Honestly, I had no idea if that was true.
“Okay.” She didn’t sound convinced. “I’m going to get ready.”
I brought my wife who had returned over to me. “When you come back on line, you’re going to be talking to my wife. I’m going to be busy with the gun. Good luck.”
I left my wife to get acquainted. I climbed up to my perch and took a good position behind the gun.
I looked at Sam who was staring up at me. I shook my head at him and shrugged. I had no idea what I was doing.
I put on ear protection and sighted the scope at about 600 meters. I was glad there was no breeze. That would have killed any chance I had.
I saw the area as clearly as if I was standing right in front of her door. There were a lot of them. I counted twenty-three. I had no idea how many were going to come out of the woodwork when I started firing.
I took careful aim at one that was fairly immobile. It was a female Zed with long stringy fake blond hair. I tried not to focus on her features but it was evident that she had been dead a long time. Her face was decomposing rapidly. Gore dripped from her eyes.
I aimed at the center of her head. I loaded the first round and prayed. I slowed my breathing, and I fired. My shoulder felt like I had been punched. It hurt pretty bad. I would have to fix that. There was no way it was going to survive fifty shots let alone five with this kind of recoil.
Luckily I kept my eye fixed on the reticle. The round went six inches to the left of her head. The vertical was correct. I jacked in the next round. I readjusted the stock and put a small sandbag upright to absorb most of the energy of the recoil. I took aim six inches to the right of her head, breathed deeply, and gently squeezed the trigger. Her head popped like a water balloon. In between gagging at the sight and moving onto the next target, I thought to myself, ‘wow cool!’ She flew back about ten feet. The kinetic energy of this weapon was unbelievable.
I looked down at my people and saw Carolyn throw up into a bush. She had obviously seen what I did. Even from this range, she couldn’t help but see the huge red and white spray coming from the Zed. She better get used to it. It was going to keep happening.
I took aim again and hit my next target perfectly with the same result. This weapon was a wet dream. To be able to shoot minute of angle at this range despite amateur abilities was amazing. WOW! I was getting excited which wasn’t good. I had to calm myself much more. Even a micro tremor at this range would throw off the shot.
I shot on and on until I had to change magazines. Most rounds were hits. I was mostly pleased with myself, but I couldn’t handle the imperfections of misses. Surgeons should never miss. In the operating room, if a patient died it was a problem with bad luck or anesthesia. It should never be about technique.
I tried to fix the problem by adjusting the shoulder grip. It didn’t work. Then I tried to hold on to the stock tighter. That did nothing either. I realized I wasn’t very good at doing that from a prone position. I sat up and changed the mag and looked at my people. They were looking down the hill and talking to each other. Then I realized they were talking to me. I pulled off the hearing protection.
“She’s ready to go when you are.” They seemed excited. I was annoyed that Theresa was ready before I was.
“I need to clean house still. It’s going to be a while.” I put on the ears again. I reloaded the empty magazine because I thought I was going to need it. I got back down into the prone position and looked around. It looked like there were just as many of them as before. They must be coming out to see what’s going on.
My Last Testament Page 13