by Kirk Allmond
One of my lines snaps, rebounding and hitting me in the back of the head. I can feel blood flowing down my neck, but I keep the throttle pegged as I make another left and head down the back side of the zombies. They’re getting squeezed together from three sides by the wire, except those that have been cut in half. I’m close now, but running out of wire. I turn left around the forth side of the horde, heading for the point where I’d tangled the initial zombie. I rocket past that mangled zombie, heading straight down the road, intending to cut them all in half with the wire. I reach the end of the wire, but instead of it cutting through them, it catches, stopping the four-wheeler.
I was thrown over the handle bars onto the road, where I skidded to a stop. My shirt was nearly ripped from my chest, and almost all the skin was removed from my right arm and side. I rolled around on the ground in agony for a moment before standing up and surveying my handiwork. The zombies were effectively pinned. Marshall waded up to the ‘pen’ of zeds with a twenty-pound sledgehammer in each hand, my god he was strong.
He swung the hammers over and over; smashing zombie heads, several times literally exploding them like that stand up comic with the sledgehammer and fruit.
He was literally smashing them three and four at a time.
“Tookes, you alright mate?” John’s voice came over my radio, which was miraculously intact after my superman impression. Flying wasn’t hard; it was the landings that sucked.
“Yea, fine bro, I’m gonna feel that in the morning.”
“Tookes, you’re one crazy son of a bitch.”
“Yea, I suppose I am.” I said. I looked around for Leo’s aura. She should have been back well before now. I finally saw it, faintly blue in the field behind the house. It was very dim, and that frightened me.
“Leo, where are you?” I asked into the radio.
“Leo! Come in.”
I’m up and running now, my road rash almost healed. I kick the fence post off the back of the four-wheeler, which takes the mangled rack with it, start it up again and rip off through the field towards her aura.
“John! Get everyone reloaded and ready for the next wave. Once you’re reloaded advance up to the first ammo dump and meet there! I’m going for Leo.”
I fly off across the field, wishing this was a larger, faster model four-wheeler, but grateful for what I had. I took a bank of a small creek at full speed, flying several feet through the air, sailing over the creek-bed before landing on the other side. Standing up on the machine, scanning with normal vision for any sign of her, I happen on her trail. The long grass was flattened in swirls on either side of a trampled path in the middle. It must have been terrifically difficult to maintain any kind of speed in this thigh high grass.
Rocketing off down her trail, I switch to aura vision. Leo was just up ahead, I couldn’t see her in the tall grass, but her light directed me towards her. She was lying crumpled in the grass. I dove off the four-wheeler as soon as I got it stopped, and ran over to her. She was breathing, very slowly. I checked her quickly for broken bones, finding her left arm was hanging in a strange direction; her lower arm was defiantly broken. I followed the trail back a few feet, and saw a rock; there was some blood on it. I gently lifted her head; there was a large wound on the back bleeding.
“Oh god, no, no no no no.” I said aloud as I ripped my tattered shirt off and pressed it under her head. She moaned a little bit when I moved her head. Pressing the shirt to the back of her head, I used my belt to secure it. While I had her head in my hand I felt her neck, which appeared to my untrained hands to be in place. I rolled her over into my lap and brushed her hair out of her face. Her eyes opened, her pupils closed down with the last of the sunlight beaming down on her face.
I leaned down and kissed her softly on the mouth, then stood up with her in my arms and walked to the four-wheeler. I had to get her to the house; I put her on my lap, facing behind me, legs wrapped around my waist. I put her good arm around my neck, and positioned the broken arm between us, holding it in place as best I could.
I started up the four-wheeler and got it turned around, slowly making my way back to the house.
“John, what’s the status?”
“We’re holding them, we’re back at ammo dump two; we ran out at the first one. We’ve killed about a quarter of the zeds in this grouping. If Leo is right, and there’s another ten thousand coming after this wave, we’re not going to have enough ammo. The other fire teams are waiting, we’re almost out at this spot, and we’re going to retreat back to the property lines in a minute. I’d guess six thousand left in this group, but Tookes, that’s just a guess, I have no idea.”
“Do what you can and fall back. We have more firepower and more ammo for those 30/30s and Charlie’s other teams - if they can maintain trigger discipline, we’ve still got a chance.”
Bookbinder came over the radio “They’ll maintain the line, don’t worry sir.”
When I got up to the main house, I carried Leo up the steps and put her on the table where she and my mother had patched up my gunshot.
“Mom, she’s got a pretty bad head wound, and a broken arm.”
“Roll her over on her stomach so I can get a look.” Said mom, who grabbed one of the buckets she’d filled before we cut power to the well pump earlier that day. She grabbed a sponge and slowly removed my shirt ‘bandage’. Leo groaned, and fresh blood rolled down her neck. Mom emptied a sponge over the wound, probing inside with her fingers, looking for a break in the skull.
“Her pupils contracted when she opened her eyes after I found her, I don’t know how she doesn’t have a concussion, but maybe we’re just lucky.”
“Someone has a plan for Leo, and that plan doesn’t end today,” said Mom.
“I hope not, I have a plan for her, and I need her tonight. I can’t do this without her.”
She replaced my shirt with gauze from the first aid kit, wrapping it all the way around her head like a bandanna. “This will be fine, now let’s take a look at that arm.”
“Mom. It’s worse out there than we thought. There wasn’t just one group of zombies - there were three. That many zombies can’t be a coincidence. There’s got to be a super controlling them somewhere, I have to get back out there.”
“I know Vic; I’ve been listening to the radio. You and Marshall are smart boys, if anyone can get us through this, you two can.” She said as I turned to leave.
“I hope you’re right Mom, because I’m almost out of ideas.”
“Use your resources Vic. Just like you always do, look around at what you have to work with, and you figure out how to get the job done with what you’ve got.”
I took off on the four-wheeler again; I’d have to remember to thank Bookbinder for it when I saw him. He was a great field commander, I was lucky to have him. When I reached the property line, I parked the quad and walked up to John, who was firing steadily, shot after shot; he’d switched to a 30/30, having exhausted all of our rounds. Zeds were advancing quickly, I didn’t see any choice.
“John, I’m going for the truck.”
“Tookes, that’s insane. We’ve stalled this group so much the last wave has caught up to them. There are easily twelve thousand zeds out there.”
“That’s why I have to go. I have to thin them out.” I took off running, by God I hate running. Always so much running in this new life.
When I started the truck, a big black puff of smoke rose out of the exhaust. The truck roared to life, and I buckled my seat belt while I waited the few seconds for the air pressure to build enough for me to release the brakes. I pressed the clutch, put the rig straight into second gear, the first gear was only for really heavy loads. The cab rocked as I let the clutch out and smashed the gas pedal. Clutch, flick the switch under the gearshift, skipping third gear, straight to fourth and floored the truck. The torque twisted the cab again, and the truck lurched up towards thirty miles an hour. Sixth gear, forty-five miles an hour. Eighth, sixty miles per hour
“He
re I come, John.” I flicked on the overhead lights, mostly used for parking the big truck at a dock at night, lighting up the nearly endless horde. I dropped the plow blade, and pulled the horn on the truck as I smashed into the leading edge of the zombies. Parts flew. Bits of gore smashed the window, cracking it. A head lodged between the cab and the side mirror, the zombie’s mouth clicking, trying to bite me. Zombies flew fifty feet on either side of the truck, smashed to bits; the truck lurched over the scraps left in the road. “Come on tires, hold for me.” I pleaded. The sheer mass of zombies had slowed me down to about thirty miles per hour; I shifted down into fourth gear and smashed the gas, pushing through the crowd, that’s when I felt the first tire give, followed by three more in the back.
My traction all but gone, I tried to steer towards the edge of the crowd, hoping maybe I could jump, but I had no steering control, I slammed to a stop in the middle of the huge horde of zombies. I knew this would happen. I’d planned for it, all the while hoping that I’d take out a few more of them. There were zombies as far as I could see in front of me, and they were closing in on the lane I’d cleared behind me. I’d taken out a pretty good clump. Not bad.
I pulled my Sig and a 9mm. The nine had seventeen rounds and my Sig had twelve. Under the seat I had my old aluminum bat stashed. I knew I wasn’t going to make it out of this, but I wasn’t done yet. Strapped and ready, I opened the door of the truck. As I did I accessed that part of my voice that I’d found at the high school, yelling “I love you Max. Be a good boy. Listen to Gramma and Uncle Marshall. John, it’s been good, brother. Marshall, take care of Mom and Max for me. Leo. I love you.”
I smashed the first two zombies reaching for the cab door, and jumped out of the truck.
Max’s small voice suddenly filled my head “Daddy, No!” I looked up and saw him standing on the hillside three hundred feet away in the fading light, his unique light blue glow seeming to light up the area around him. He was reaching for me, but there was a sea of zombies between us. I swung the bat for all I was worth, cracking zombies. After a couple of feet, they started to close in on me from behind. I threw the bat forward and drew both guns, running towards Max shooting both guns in front of me to clear a path. I’d made it about forty feet when I felt the first hand on my leg, and I went down in a heap, feeling teeth clamp down on my leg. I kicked the thing as hard as I could, caving its skull in. I scrambled, crawling, firing the last of the sig, I tossed it aside, and started smashing zombies with my fist. The slide on the glock clicked back, as I jammed the gun into the mouth of one trying to bite me.
More hands grabbed me, dragging me down to the pavement; I felt the excruciating agony of a dozen mouths tearing into my flash. I’d made it about a quarter of the way, and killed an additional thirty or forty zombies. I failed.
“I’m sorry Max, I love you.” I swore to myself I wasn’t going to scream as they ate me. I failed at that too. I could see Max up on the hill.
40. The End.
The last thing I heard was Max’s voice, much stronger than before, but still his beautiful voice. “NO, You bad guys! Let. Go. Of. My. Daddy!” At the last word, he stomped his foot. It sounded like all the air was sucked out of a room. At the same time, a wave of pale blue energy shot out from him in every direction, rolling over the undead horde. The second the energy wave rolled over a zombie, they crumpled where they stood. I felt a serene calm as the pale blue light washed over me, not even a hint of a breeze, but the zombies on me were ripped off, tossed into the air by the giant wave, landing with wet thuds on the pavement around me.
I woke up in the downstairs bedroom next to Leo. My wounds healed, her head wound was closed, and her arm was out of its sling. I felt amazing. My back wasn’t even sore. I can’t remember the last time I woke up without a sore back.
I looked over at her, sleeping soundly. She was so beautiful in the morning sunlight that streamed through the window. She woke up, looked over at me and smiled. I kissed her good morning. She got out of bed, and as she stumbled towards the bathroom, I took a moment in bed to grab my phone to check my email. Then I remembered there were no phones. There was no more email. I still took a moment to admire Leo’s beautiful figure as she walked into the light of the bathroom.
“Hey Leo, I have a question.”
“Yes Vic?” She asked, turning around. She was naked; the sight of her almost made me completely lose my train of thought.
“What happened to you out there in the back field yesterday?” I asked after a pause.
“I tripped over a bloody rabbit. The damn thing bolted out of the grass as I was running, I swerved, but caught it with my toe I went flying, hit my head on a rock and blacked out.”
We both got up out of bed and got dressed, both starving like we hadn’t eaten in months. As Leo was tying her shoes and I was pulling my shirt on, Max burst into the room.
“Daddy! I killed the bad-guys. They were biting you and I told them to let go but they wouldn’t.”
“You did great Max monster. I’m sorry you had to do that. I’m sorry you had to see that.” I said, hugging him more tightly than I ever had before.
We walked out to breakfast, where Mom, Marshall, and John were already seated.
“Glad to see you two up and around. Leo, I got seven-ninety-three!” John bragged.
“You beat me, I only had six-ninety-seven,” replied Leo.
We all had a good laugh about their competition, until Marshall spoke.
“A thousand fourteen for me. Thanks Vic for pinning them up for me!”
We all roared with laughter. Here we were together as a family, safe. For now.
Epilogue.
Life was so different now, but it was also the same. I was in love with a beautiful woman. It was different, but the same. My son was happy. Life wasn’t easy before, and it wasn’t easy now, but we all worked together to live, to love, and to enjoy the precious gifts we’ve been given.
That’s the story of how this all started. I’m fifty-two years old, but I haven’t aged a day in the last twelve years. Leo is forty, and still looks exactly as I met her on her twenty-eighth birthday. Max is almost sixteen, and looks like a normal teenage boy. I’m not sure if or when he’ll stop aging, because I don’t really have any idea what’s happened to me. He has normal teenage boy thoughts, and normal teenage boy dreams. Marshall and John are similar to us.
There are just over four hundred people living in Sharonton. The entire town showed up for my mother’s funeral last month, she was seventy-eight when she died peacefully in her sleep. At the wake celebrating her life, someone voted to name our settlement; it was unanimously agreed that it should be named after her. I think she’d accomplished her purpose and was ready to rest. She fed this entire community for the first year and a half, until the crops were in and we’d gathered enough cows and goats. She’d found and caught our first pair of chickens after we recovered the first chicken coops. and we now have over two thousand hens on the chicken farm a mile downwind. She founded our first school, from which Max was about to graduate.
The entire village, almost six-thousand-five hundred acres worth is surrounded by a 20-foot stonewall 24.5 miles long, modeled after the Great Wall of China. The wall took us almost ten years to build. We still have sentries, we each spend a week taking a shift living on the wall, because we still encounter zombies, sometimes large hordes, but we live in relative safety.
This isn’t the end. Safety and security didn’t start after Max ended that huge wave of zombies. It was the very next day that Frye showed up again with more bad news, but it’s the end for now. It’s my shift on the wall next week.
Until next week, as Leo would say, “Keep Surviving.”
Please follow along with the continuing story at www.whatzombiesfear.com
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