They gathered two Smith and Wesson .38 caliber revolvers and a partial box of ammunition. Sam said, “The only good thing to come of this senseless attack is we now have more guns and ammo to barter with. We’ll use those before we let it be known we have gold.” He pulled Tom’s billfold from his back pocket and checked his expired driver’s license. The thieves lived in Marion on Wildebeest Lane. Stacy’s license had a different address on Bitterroot Estates Drive. He didn’t bother to claim the small amount of US currency each had. That in itself felt strange, but he had enough useless green and white paper.
Tom’s new looking Polaris four wheeler was used to drag the bodies to the same ditch the zombie was dumped in days ago. JR was morose over the forced violence. She was learning to accept death as a part of their new world but still didn’t like the senselessness of it. As Sam drove, she rehashed the confrontation over and over. Tom and Stacy didn’t come to negotiate; they were intent on driving the squatters off the disputed property. Were she and Sam right to stake their claim on the property? Was it worth the deaths of two people? Was their future to be clouded by other similar incidents? She breathed deeply and tried to push the event from her mind. More and more often she was being forced to do that.
They arrived back at the cabin, and she cleared her mind of what-ifs to continue working unenthusiastically. Sam suggested they go to the dead intruder’s home addresses and take anything they could use. He said it was the spoils of war. She didn’t disagree but asked to wait till the next day for the impact of the confrontation to ease a bit.
They drove to Tom’s address the following morning and entered the small town of no visible residents with low expectations. Sam kicked the front door open. While searching the house they found two .22 caliber semiautomatic rifles and three 525 round packs of .22 ammo, 200 rounds of .38 cal. ammo, food, blankets, and a few miscellaneous household items. Sam found two old 12 gauge Winchester 1897 pump shotguns and four boxes of number five shot in a closet. The ammo would be great for hunting squirrels and rabbits, but the shot size was too light for ducks or geese. With the plugs removed each shotgun would hold five shells in the tubular magazines.
While in town they checked every house in that block and found several guns worth taking plus a sizeable amount of ammunition for them. Half the houses had nothing of value to them; the owners must have left and taken the essential survival items with them. A bedroom in one house contained a one gallon glass jar almost full of old silver coins. On a hunch they ransacked the house and found twenty, one ounce gold coins hidden in a utility room cabinet. In addition, canned goods were gathered to assure their survival through the harsh winter they anticipated. At two of the houses with large garden areas out back, they found home canned fruits and vegetables on basement shelves and jars and equipment for home canning. They confiscated more than enough equipment to process the vegetables they planned to grow the next season.
After leaving Tom’s place, they located the address on Stacy’s license. It was a massive two-story home with a four car garage on a large lot that hadn’t been maintained for several months. A key on Stacy’s key ring let then in the backdoor. The expansive log house appeared to be less than five years old, and the designer kitchen was modern and extravagant. JR drooled when she saw the top brands of stainless steel appliances and hickory cabinets. Photos were hung in the stairway leading upstairs. “Look, Sam, this family picture shows Stacy with her parents and two slightly older men I bet are her brothers. They were a nice looking family.”
“Yeah. I don’t know what her parents did, but they appear to have been wealthy judging by this house and the furnishings and amenities.”
“Let’s go through it quick to see if there’s anything we can use.”
Clothes closets in four bedrooms were stuffed full of clothes. Apparently, the occupants didn’t escape and were turned into zombies weeks earlier. Two refrigerators and a freezer were bypassed because anything in them would have long since rotted. JR claimed two matching tall oak chests of drawers in the master bedroom. The contents were emptied onto the king-size bed, then JR helped Sam lug them to the truck. He found high dollar name-brand winter vests and coats for each of them in the massive closet. The owners looked to be above working with their hands because no serious work tools were owned. At one time, he would have envied the big screen TVs and high dollar laptop computers, but now they were useless junk of a past, dead era. JR swooned at the jewelry Mrs. Pohlman had in a jewelry armoire in her closet. She almost passed on all of it because none had a place in their new lives. Then she realized the gold and platinum settings and diamonds and other precious stones had bartering value. She suddenly realized how quickly her attitude was adapting to the changes in her environment and lifestyle.
While riding the loaded Kubota back to the cabin that evening, they were confronted by a small, female black bear. Sam guessed she weighed about 160 to 200 pounds. A pair of young, black cubs stared at them curiously from forty feet. The female stood erect on her hind legs and snarled at them. Smokey barked and growled as the four-wheeler stopped and waited for the trio to leave. Sam ordered Smokey to sit and be quiet. When they tired of watching the spectacle, two shots over the bear’s heads caused the trio to scamper into the woods. Sam let the Kubota idle several minutes longer as they waited for the carnivores to move away from the trail so the four-wheeler wouldn’t be attacked from the side as it passed. JR was impressed by their first close-up bear encounter. She had helped her dad dress rabbits, squirrels, fish, frogs, turkeys, doves, and several deer, but a bear, a bison, or a moose would be a new challenge. The Kubota’s headlights lit the trail as they continued toward the cabin. Then the Kubota and the black Polaris took two more trips to haul the rest of their day’s loot to the storage shed.
Leaves were changing colors and the evening air was brisk when they rested outside the cabin after super the following workday. Sam and JR sat together on the wood slab bench; Smokey laid on the cool earth between their feet. The fading sun put them in the cabin’s shadow as it leisurely dropped toward the western horizon. Two sawhorses stood ten feet away with several boards laid across them. Sam worked that afternoon measuring and sawing boards by hand for a project he’d started.
He asked, “Are there any other ‘honey do’ jobs you need completed before winter?”
“None I can think of right this minute; unless we decide there’s a need for a second storage closet to hold more of our miscellaneous items we want stored nearby and handy. You’ve already committed to installing base and wall mounted kitchen cabinets this winter. Those will hold a lot of kitchen dishes, towels, and pots and pans that would otherwise go inside a closet.”
“Good,” he replied. “I want to build three tree stands for deer hunting and several blinds in the valley by the stream for hunting larger game animals. At some point I’ll also want to build a smokehouse to cure some of the game we shoot. One of the books Charlie gave us gives instructions for how to build one, and it also tells how to use it. ”
“My dad talked about getting a smoker, but he never did. Don’t they use a special kind of wood?”
“The book tells that too; apple, cherry and hickory are recommended as being the best types. Several of the farms and ranches we visited had small orchards. We’ll go back there for the wood.” Sam hesitated several seconds. “Peaches are already out of season, but apples should be ripe about not, I think.”
“Good. I like fresh apples. And it sounds like ‘Sam the Carpenter’ has his work cut out for him for the rest of the year.”
“I’ve learned I like the tranquility of quietly planning and creating things around our home. We’re building a good life here.”
JR leaned closer and kissed him on the cheek. “I love you Samuel Boyle.” She paused before saying, “Quiet tranquility. . . . After recently shooting two trespassers and trashing their bodies in a ditch. Hopefully things will settle down now and we can enjoy a peaceful future in our new woodland home.”
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nbsp; Sam shrugged, then frowned because he doubted it would be that quick or simple.
After breakfast the following morning, JR went back to the enclosed trailer alone on the Kubota for another bag of chicken feed. Sam was building a storage closet with six shelves in a corner of the cabin. Smokey was left with Sam to give JR a little ‘alone’ time as she called it. She still struggled with the constant, deadly violence that seemed to strike all too often and without warning or reason.
At a high overlook she stopped and shut off the engine to admire the panoramic view of the valley and the meandering stream below. Her life with Sam was evolving into the intimate relationship she’d always envisioned having with a mate. Once everything settled, she intended to have children. They hadn’t discussed it, but she planned to bring it up when she felt the time was right. She sensed he’d be a good, loving father. Tears formed when she thought of her parents and siblings. They would have approved of Sam and accepted him into their close-knit family. She hoped their first child would be a boy. She’d propose naming it after both grandfathers—Samuel Jacob Boyle. When a baby girl came along, they’d decide on its name together; but it definitely wouldn’t be saddled with Josephine Rhiannon. Breyna came to mind—lovely, innocent Breyna. She wrapped both arms around her chest and imagined the relationship that might have been. Sam had proven he wasn’t against taking an abandoned child in to raise and love as his own. She was proud of his unselfish open-mindedness. Then a dark shadow smothered her happy thoughts; did she really want to bring children into the harsh and dangerous world they had been thrust into? What would their chance of survival be? Forcefully she pushed those negative thoughts away. Times would settle out and hopefully get better as the violent, criminal people were eliminated. She spent quiet time reviewing happenings since that fateful night weeks ago when Sam stopped and picked her up outside Carnegie. Her thoughts concluded with the couple’s recent attempt to throw them off their homesite by murder if necessary.
She snapped out of her negative thoughts, started the machine, and continued to the trailer. There was still work to be done and she’d dawdled long enough. After loading a single fifty pound feed bag, she closed and locked the trailer door. She walked to the edge of the turnaround and then ten feet into the woods to pee. While squatted, she heard a vehicle approach.
At the clearing she saw a new looking bright red Chevy 4X4 crew cab pickup with four men in it. The truck stopped abruptly in front of her as she hustled to the Kubota. She was ten feet from the four-wheeler as the men spotted her and hurriedly exited the truck whooping and hollering. They quickly surrounded her near the Kubota. A short, heavy young man about her age maneuvered behind her. The others were in their late twenties or early thirties. All were loud, rowdy, and obnoxious. She was fearful of their type. Raunchy, obscene comments were exchanged about her looks and shapeliness.
She said, “Get out of my way, I’m leaving.”
Her right hand dropped down close to her thigh holster. The younger, short, heavyset man behind her saw the move, brushed her hand aside, and grabbed the handgun before she could grip it.
Sam was growing concerned. JR had been gone far longer than it should take to get a bag of feed. However, she did indicate she needed some time to think. But she might have a flat tire or engine trouble. Hopefully, if she was walking back, he could meet her halfway. He and Smokey hustled toward the clearing at a fast, long stride walk but short of jogging.
The young man waved JR’s gun overhead and fingered the trigger. It fired into the sky; surprise showed in his expression and actions as he almost dropped the gun. “God damn it to hell. She had the safety off.” He assumed a shooting stance and fired off three more shots into the woods at a large tree. The group’s leader grabbed his hand, took the handgun, and chastised him. “It’s a Glock, Patrick. There ain’t no safety you idiot. Jack in a shell and it’s ready to go. That’s a lotta gun for a pretty, young lady.” He looked at the upper frame. “A .40 caliber even. Lotta gun.” He turned to JR. “What the hell you doing with this fancy, big bore gun lady? Gonna shoot somebody?”
Sam guessed he was slightly more than a mile from the clearing when he heard a single gunshot followed seconds later by three more in quick succession from the direction where JR would be. His pace changed to a sprint with Smokey heeling behind him. He was certain he could still run a mile flat out in just over four and a quarter minutes, even over rough terrain; especially if JR’s life might depend on it. He thought she must have been surprised by zombies or a large wild predator.
The short man behind JR shoved her at the man in front of her. “Ha bro, pass the bitch around.” They shoved her back and forth between them laughing and making obscene comments as their circle narrowed. She yelled, “Stop it. Leave me alone damn you. I’m late getting home, and my husband will be checking on me.”
The leader said, “There’s four of us and only one husband, so bring him on sweetheart. We’ll fuck him too.”
JR was pushed again. “After those gunshots he’ll likely bring my three brothers too.”
The leader laughed. “I don’t believe you. Brothers your ass you lying bitch.”
Another man cupped her butt cheeks in both hands and hooted loudly as he thrust her forward. The man in front of her was surprised when her fist struck his protruding gut and his breath gushed out, but his hands pushed her back into the circle.
He shoved her off with both palms on her breast. “Wow, nice big jugs in there. We need a better look at those melons. Get ready to strip the bitch.”
At that, JR stopped her backward momentum and charged the black haired grungy leader. She was afraid of the crass morons. She kicked for his balls, but he twisted to the side, and her foot hit his thigh. He shoved her off for another pass around the group. A mean sneer covered his face as he enjoyed her plight and looked forward to the reward he savored.
He spit as she tried to sprint past him; his reaction was fast as he tripped her with his foot. She stumbled as he lunged forward and threw a hard right fist that hit her jaw and staggered her and knocked her to her knees. She fought the assailants, but they dragged her to the ground and pinned her. Two groped and pinched her breast while their leader stripped away her boots, pants, and panties as her legs flailed. He exclaimed, “Well look at this! She ain’t got a good tan, she’s brown all over. We got ourselves an injun squaw. I’m gonna screw her to get even for them redskins scalping ole General Custer.”
The short, youngest man ripped her button front shirt apart. She screamed and cursed the misfits and struggled fiercely. A long, cold hunting knife was slipped between her breast to cut the bra in two pieces. The leader said, “Hold her down, I’m first at that puss. The rest of you can just wait until I’m done and see how a real white man fucks an injun squaw.” A man on each side pinned her arms and held her ankles. The leader dropped his pants to his ankles and stroked his penis at JR. “Get ready, baby, cause here I come. I’m gonna enjoy this, bitch, even if you don’t.”
Sam was in a dead run as he and Smokey reached the clearing at the end of the animal trail and saw what was happening to JR. The men’s catcalls were loud, and Sam was sure they didn’t hear him approach. Sam was wheezing and panting for breath but ordered Smokey to heel. As he stepped out with the Glock in his hand his blood pressure went even higher when he saw JR was about to be raped. No one noticed him at first as he hunched low and stealthily closed the distance. A man kneeling near her head was trying to kiss JR while squeezing and pinching her breast with both hands. From thirty feet Sam saw the man on the left side of JR focus on the newcomer and a dog, then open his mouth. Sam let out a half breath, then held it as he aimed.
Sam said, “Attack.” Smokey bounded forward in a flash. Sam shot the man facing him in the forehead as the victim lost his grip on JR’s ankle and blubbered something unintelligible. The man opposite him was shot in the back of the head from twenty feet before he could react, then the man at JR’s head trying to kiss her was shot when he straigh
tened his torso in reaction to the gunshots and reached for his pant’s pocket. Sam left the unarmed man standing with his pants down till last.
The group’s leader screamed as he tried to pry Smokey’s fangs from his thigh. Blood flowed down his leg as Smokey hung on and snarled. The pants around his ankles kept him immobile as JR pushed a bloody corpse away and then scooted forward on her back and kicked her right heel into the leader’s testicles. She yelled, “Down Smokey, down.” Then she wiped splattered blood off her face with the torn shirt so she could see clearly.
Smokey backed off but continued to hunch beside his target menacingly and growl. The leader collapsed forward and twisted onto his back and lay moaning and holding his torn and bloody thigh. He looked fearfully from JR, to Sam, to Smokey. “Okay, I’m beat. I’ll leave and never come back.” He rolled onto his knees and struggled to stand and raise his pants. JR spotted her gun where it lay on the ground several feet away. Still mostly naked, she grabbed it and sprinted ahead of the leader, planted her feet and assumed a two handed shooting stance. “You bastard, you’re not going anywhere.” She pulled the trigger twice and put two bullets in the man’s stomach. He screamed in pain as his pants dropped and he fell to the dirt on his back with both hands holding his bleeding gut. JR ran to him and stomped her right heel into his stomach over his hands. The wannabe rapist screamed even louder. She was livid with hatred fueled by a full load of adrenalin.
Sam stood silently close by. He thought about intervening, then reconsidered. After what JR had faced, he’d let her get her anger out in any way she decided. She’d likely need him close afterward when she calmed and regretted her actions. But now the bastard deserved any fate she chose for him. Sam holstered his weapon when he was sure the other three men were dead.
Running To Escape: A Sam & JR Zombie Thriller Page 15