The Hunt Chronicles (Volume 1): Awakening

by J. D. Demers

  “Fresh veggies?” I asked with a smile.

  “Can it!” he commented harshly, and pointed to the edge of the yard. There was a shovel stabbed in the ground, and the beginnings of a hole were dug, but not too deep. Well, it was a hole or a grave.

  Fish signaled for me to keep an eye on the patio while he inspected the dug up area. He came back, shaking his head and motioned over to the patio.

  The screened patio was pretty big. Like the house I found Boomer in, it had a stone bar with a propane grill built in. There was a sliding glass door in the back, and a single door leading to another part of the house.

  We neared the glass door and saw a bloody hand print smeared across the top. The blinds were still closed though, and were speckled with dried blood. Something tried to get out this way. Fish barely nudged the door to see if it would open, then shook his head. Boomer gave off the signal that a zombie was near, and backed away from the door. Fish put his gun to his lips, making the ‘Shush’ sign, and pointed toward the other back door.

  We made our way over and Fish checked the doorknob. I could tell it was locked by the expression he made. However, right next to the door was a decent sized window that showed a rather large master bathroom. Two French doors opened from the bathroom to the master bedroom. There were no signs of movement.

  Fish seemed to know a thing or two about breaking into houses. Either he had a checkered past, or he had been busy since the dead rose. He took out some weird tool and started shimming in between the window frame. He looked satisfied as the two locks clicked open. He then quietly took out the screen and raised the window. A horrid smell wafted out of the opening, almost making me gag. He looked back at the sliding glass door and didn’t see any movement.

  “Alright, Supply, let’s see what you’re made of,” Fish whispered. He placed his .45 down on a patio chair and linked his fingers together. “Hurry up, before the Zulu hears us,” he whispered hastily.

  “Dammit,” I said under my breath as I put my own gun next to his.

  He heaved me up into the windowsill. I fell, face first, into a large bathtub right below the window. Clanking noises from my flashlight and other gear echoed through the house. Within seconds, I could hear movement and moaning emanating from outside of the room. I guess the bedroom door wasn’t shut all the way, because before I was on my feet, it flung open.

  A man lumbered in. His face was dry and gaunt, worse than Dave’s ever was. His cheek bones had pierced through the skin, and vile black ooze dribbled out of his open mouth. He had no wounds other than a bullet hole through his left temple. Behind him came another figure. It was a boy, probably only fourteen years of age who had been mangled. His throat had been torn out, and half of his left arm was chewed to the bone and hung limply at his side. A revolver was stuffed in the boy’s pants.

  The man had already made it to the French doors when an oil filter appeared above my head. I ducked, even though I was nowhere near the line of fire.

  CLANK! CLANK!

  Two shots from Fish’s .45 put both zombies down.

  A hot shell discharged from Fish’s gun, going down the back of my shirt.

  “Ouch,” I spurted out, as I squirmed around in the bath tub. There was nothing I could do, though. I would have to wait for the burning shell at the small of my back to cool down.

  “Stop crying and unlock the door!” Fish commanded.

  I climbed out of the tub, still doing a little dance as the shell branded my lower spine. I unlocked the door and opened it. Fish was there with my gun in his other hand. He handed it to me while Boomer jetted in, sniffing around. The canine went to the two dead bodies, as if checking them to ensure they were dead.

  We finished clearing the bedroom and moved into a front room. It looked like the family used this for a study room. There was a couch and a love seat, but no TV. There were two ways out. The first one was to the left near the front door of the house that hooked around to another room, and one to the right which held a large dining room table and a doorway leading to another area of the house.

  Boomer was sniffing to the right and walked into the next room.

  This room had an open kitchen that faced the living room, and to the left, we saw the other entrance back to the study. On the other side was a hallway which we guessed led to the other bedrooms. Most new homes in Florida had some sort of split plan layout like this one.

  Boomer sniffed toward the hallway and we tactically followed. There wasn’t any noise that we could hear, though Boomer was showing some sort of tell. I wasn’t sure if he was sensing a zombie or something else. It wasn’t his normal reaction to smelling the dead.

  There were four doors in the hallway. One was already open and showed us an empty bathroom. The first two bedrooms we checked were empty as well, and we moved to the other end. The door showed signs that someone… or something had beaten on it. Brown, dry blood lined the floor and covered the door in small handprints. But they hadn’t broken it down, nor did they beat on it for too long.

  We tried to push it open, but it wouldn’t budge. That’s when we heard something inside. It was just a small bump, like something moved.

  “Another Zulu.” Fish said eyeing the door like it was the enemy. “Something’s up against it though.”

  I looked down at Boomer and he was wagging his tail anxiously.

  “I don’t think so,” I said, motioning to Boomer. He sniffed at the door excitedly. He would be excited if it were a zombie, of course, but he would be more alert, whiney, and hunched down, ready to attack.

  Fish glared at the dog a moment. “Maybe, maybe not. Either way, we have to get in there.”

  “What now?” I asked. “We take down the hurricane shutters? Go in through the window?”

  “Might have to. We’ll look in the garage. Maybe we can-” a voice cut Fish off in mid-sentence.

  “Is-is someone out there?” a weak female voice said.

  Zombies don’t talk, and I was pretty sure scabs didn’t either. Fish eyed me a second, then looked at the door.

  “Are you alone in there, ma’am?” he asked, attempting to soften his voice. It didn’t work too well.

  “Yes,” she said. “Are they… are they gone?” she asked, whimpering.

  “For now,” he responded. “How do you have the door jammed? We can’t get it open.”

  “It’s the dresser. A tall one. I had to push it in front. He wanted to get in. But… but…”

  “It’s okay,” I chimed in, and earned a glare from Fish. “Can you move it? We’ll get you out of there.” I could tell Fish wasn’t happy with this whole situation. We weren’t counting on finding another survivor.

  It took some time of her trying to move the dresser and us pushing the door to finally get her out. Her name was Judy. She was about five and a half feet tall with short brown curly hair that hovered just above her shoulders. I found out later she was in her forties and was the wife and mother of the two zombies we just killed.

  Her husband, Charles, was one of the sick victims that turned the day after the power went out. When he reanimated again, her son Caden had shot him in the head. The next day when the boy was digging a hole for his father, he heard his mother scream. The body was still in the house, and when it rose, the zombie had come after Judy. Caden saved her life by jumping in front of his father. She ran and hid in the bedroom.

  Evidently, his dad had already tore into little Caden. The boy ran back to the room his mom was in and pounded on the door. When she went to go open it, she heard her husband’s moans as he dragged the boy back into the living room. Judy then put the dresser in front of the door.

  She had survived the past two weeks only because it rained. She opened the window and collected the rainwater that fell behind the hurricane shutters. She hadn’t eaten since she locked herself up. She was skinny and very weak. I was shocked she was able to move the dresser at all. This lady was a survivor.

  After we rescued her, we gave her some food and she passed out
on the couch. We then quickly disposed of the bodies so she wouldn’t have to see them when she woke up. Then Fish and I made three runs in my car and his small Ford Ranger pickup truck that he had parked around the corner of my street. We moved all the necessary gear into what Fish now referred to as ‘Headquarters’.

  At first, it was awkward. After all, this was Judy’s house. But after a few days, she seemed okay with everything. Well, as okay as you can be after two men barge in your home, kill your loved ones who had been infected, and then set up camp and tell you they’re moving in.

  Those two weeks she spent cooped up in that room had changed her, I guess. I imagined Judy as a classic mother, always baking pies and making the family dinner. She was probably a sweet lady, but now, she was just quiet, sad, and afraid. Not afraid of us, but just in general. Boomer liked her, and Fish wasn’t nearly as mean to her as he was to me, but she was still a recluse.

  She showed us the house, in particular, the auauponic system her husband had set up in the backyard. For those who are unfamiliar with aquaponics, there is an aquaculture system like a fish tank that feeds and waters the hydroponic part, which in this case consisted of the rows of buckets containing plants that we saw when we first entered the backyard. They vegetable plants would never wither unless the water supply dried up. It was pretty ingenious.

  The fish in the large tank against the house were Tilapia. There was a solar panel on the back of the house that fed a battery which powered a pump to provide oxygen. The fish were still alive. Charles had left the container of food right above their tank, and I guess the wind or rain had knocked it over. There were only nine fish in there, but two were babies. They were breeding.

  Fish, my friend, not the ones in the tank, loved this. He said it was guaranteed meat every couple of weeks. I guessed Tilapia grew fast. He said we would have to make some runs soon, and to add fish food to the list.

  The plants that were growing in the backyard were lettuce, tomatoes, some potato plants, carrots, and a few others. The guy had a bunch of organic seeds as well. I wanted to expand this set up, which led to a remark from Fish, saying that maybe I could be useful after all, instead of attracting zombies. Asshole.

  The large solar panels on the house were a different story. They were connected to the grid, not a battery backup. At the time, none of us knew anything about how to hook them up for our use. The best we could tell from the small solar on the fish tank was that we would need batteries and some sort of converter setup from DC to AC.

  They had a Durango in their garage, which we moved to one side of the driveway and syphoned the rest of the gas into it from my car. We then moved the Civic across the street and left it. All the while, we must have killed ten zombies that were wandering around the neighborhood. It wasn’t safe. These things migrated, and there was no such thing as clearing out an area.

  So, after settling in for a few days, Fish decided to make a run. He wanted to go alone, which irritated me, but I didn’t protest. He didn’t think it was a good idea to leave Judy by herself just yet.

  Judy had started to come around, but was still pretty solitary. She helped clean, set up a little laundry area outside, tended to the garden, and would cook for us. They had a single propane tank with one back up for their grill, so Fish added propane to the list too.

  Judy seemed to open up more when Fish wasn’t around. Maybe because he was ugly and scary, who knows, but I was glad. She would talk about her family, though she never mentioned her son or husband. Usually, she spoke about her sister. I would tell her about mine as well, but we always avoided the question ‘I wonder if they made it’. She reminded me a lot of my mother. You would think that would have depressed me, but it actually helped me cope a little better.

  Fish returned from the scavenging run with his Ford Ranger full of equipment. We shut the front iron gates after he pulled in and manually opened the garage. He had three back up propane tanks, six police radios with the charging stands, twenty or so cans of food, along with a lot of dried food, dog food, fish food, and a host of other gear. He was also covered in black ooze from head to toe.

  “My god,” I said to him when he got out of the truck.

  “Yeah, things are bad,” he said, and immediately took off his black camouflage top. It made a wet thud as he threw it on the side of his truck. “Back the truck into the garage. I think a few Zulus were following me”.

  I did as ordered, and he shut the garage after I pulled in.

  We had been rotating the solar driveway lights I scavenged in the backyard. We used them every other day for lighting inside at night and during the day. It was a nice little system that Judy managed. The zombies didn’t seem to be able to see the faint lights through the metal hurricane shutters. We set up little hangers for them throughout the house and in the garage. There was no more need to use flashlights inside.

  We brought all the gear in, and moved everything to its special location. I spent the time using my skills as a supply clerk organizing and tracking all of our gear and food. I guess it really wasn’t too necessary, but it kept the place from being a total mess.

  Fish produced a manual from his cargo pocket and threw it on the kitchenette table. Half of it was stained with zombie blood.

  “Read it over. Learn it,” Fish ordered.

  I looked down and saw it was a solar panel guide.

  “You expect me to become an electrician in a day?” I said.

  “No, I expect you to learn how to set up a battery backup so we can get some power in this place,” he replied. “It’s going to get hot soon. We’re going to need these ceiling fans. They have a small fridge on the patio we also might be able to hook up. I expect a list in the morning. You and I are going to go shopping.”

  I got up to face him, making sure Judy couldn’t hear us. She was in the backyard, cleaning Fish’s jersey, but I still didn’t want her to hear what I had to say.

  “Are you sure she’s okay to leave alone?” I shook my head. “She’s been through a lot.”

  “She’s gonna have to be,” he retorted. “We’ve all been through a lot. Either she’s going to make it, or she’s not. We can’t babysit her forever.”

  “Can we at least leave Boomer with her?” I really didn’t like that idea. Leaving the safety of Headquarters without my trusty sidekick was not something I really wanted to do. But I knew Boomer liked her, more than he could stand Fish at any rate. He could give her a fighting chance if anything bad were to happen.

  Fish thought about that for a second. I could tell he wanted Boomer there to alert us if any zombies or scabs were near our scavenging areas. He didn’t tell me about his trip, but I knew he faced a lot more danger than he planned to. He probably didn’t want to go through whatever he had went through that day again. He would never say that aloud, but I could tell. I mean, that’s why he wanted me to go with him, I was sure. He just didn’t want to admit that I was useful.

  “Alright, we leave the dog.” He grabbed the book off the table and shoved it into my chest. “Read up, we need a list by the morning.”

  Fish used the battery supply on the fish tank to charge three of the police radios. Judy exchanged lights throughout the house, and I buckled down and started to read.

  I was surprised. Once I read up on the stuff, dealing with solar power wasn’t that difficult. I made my list, and started preparing for the trip the next day.

  Later on that evening, Judy made spaghetti noodles with a can of sauce Fish brought back home that day. We also had a salad with some of the leaves of lettuce from the garden. As the sun went down, the hordes of zombies awoke. Judy seemed immune to it. I couldn’t imagine the psychological trauma she went through being cooped up in one little room for that long.

  “You were gone for a while today. How bad was it?” I asked Fish as he finished his plate.

  “Bad,” he replied curtly. Fish usually used as few words as possible when he didn’t want to talk about something.

  “Did you see any
other survivors?” Judy chimed in. She rarely spoke when Fish was around. Fish knew he made her uncomfortable as well. That’s probably why he always took a softer tone with her.

  “No, but I saw some fires. Gunshots, too. I think they were coming from the other side of the highway.” He looked over at me.

  “Are you both leaving tomorrow?” she asked. I saw a little dread in her eyes. She must have heard us talking earlier or noticed me getting some of my gear together.

  “We have to,” Fish said. “I need his help to get some batteries and other shi… stuff,” he corrected himself before he cursed. I found it awkward that he was trying to watch his language in front of Judy.

  “We need to get more than just batteries,” I told him. “Electrical equipment in general. A Radio Shack should do.” Honestly, I wasn’t sure if it would do, but it sounded good.

  “There’s only one Radio Shack near us and that’s on the other side of the highway,” he said glaring at me like that was a bad idea.

  “I don’t understand why this is so important,” Judy said with a confused look.

  “Ma’am,” Fish said, “If we don’t get some of these fans working inside the house, we’re going to have major issues when summer hits. The heat will burn us out and the mold will make us sick.”

  He was right. We were barely in April and the temperatures were already approaching ninety degrees. The humidity level was climbing too. Mold would start forming in the house if we didn’t get some good airflow in there. Fans seemed to be the only way to do that. Even if we did manage to harness enough power for the AC unit, the noise from it would attract every scab and zombie in the city.

  “We also need to think about sound proofing the house as much as possible,” I added into the conversation. Fish gave me a curious look. Did I just think of something he hadn’t? “I was thinking maybe we could hit a carpet store. You know, use the padding they put underneath on the windows and walls.”

  “Not a bad idea,” Judy said.

  “Yeah,” Fish agreed. “If we have time, we’ll try to swing by and grab some.”