Emily pursed her lips in thought. “This one probably came over right after the snow and got caught on a tree,” she suggested. “Or it could have already been on this side of things.”
“Regardless, we gotta deal with ‘em,” Myles replied. “Too many have been coming up to the farms this week.”
Susanna shrugged, keeping her voice light. “They’re not a big deal,” she said. “Just a handful here and there.”
“Not a big deal for us, since we’re gun-toting badasses,” he declared, puffing out his chest. It looked comical on his wiry frame, and the women chuckled. “But for some of those city folk that we pulled out, a lot of them aren’t equipped to handle it.”
“Well, if they can’t handle a little gunslinging, I hate to think what they’re going to be like when it comes time to plant and harvest the fields,” Susanna quipped.
Emily wrinkled her nose. “Should probably add back braces and ibuprofen to the shopping list.”
“And ear plugs so we don’t have to listen to them whine,” the younger woman added.
Myles raised a hand. “I’ll take zombie patrol any day of the week over having to organize city folk to do farm work,” he said.
The trio approached the harbor bridge, a tiny two-lane stretch of pavement that took them over the water. The village on the other side was a collection of about a hundred and fifty upper middle class homes, created by a high-end developer several years back. They’d come in and dug out channels to create the man made harbor so that the businessmen in Bismarck could have a secluded refuge where they could park their boats.
Myles focused on one of the main docks across the water, clear of any water vehicles. “Really makes you wonder where those people went,” he said.
“My guess would be that they didn’t even know,” Emily replied. “They just saw the chaos that was happening, hopped in their boats, and cast off.”
Susanna shook her head. “With the way the weather was, there’s a good chance they got stuck somewhere upriver.”
“That’s gotta be a horrible way to go.” Myles shuddered. “Starving on a freezing boat while getting seasick.”
His fiancee cocked her head. “Sounds better than having an undead person rip your throat out.”
“I think you’re underestimating just how bad I get seasick,” he replied, rubbing his forehead.
She raised an eyebrow. “Is that why you never want to go fishing with me?”
“I told you, I’ll always go fishing with you,” Myles said, throwing an arm around her shoulder and giving it a gentle squeeze. “Just as long as I can stand on the shore.”
Susanna barked a laugh. “Well, that’ll be good,” she teased. “You can catch the minnows and I can use them as bait to catch our dinner.”
“And that’s why your relationship works,” Emily declared. “You compliment each other.”
They shared a chuckle as they came around the bend on the island, reaching the first row of houses. A lone zombie stood in the middle of the road, oblivious to its surroundings. Crimson icicles glinted on its tattered clothes, and its exposed joints were in shambles from constant exposure to harsh weather.
At the sound of footsteps, it turned towards the trio as if slogging through molasses, reaching out a frostbitten hand and staggering towards them.
“I got it,” Myles said, and pulled a heavy lead pipe out of his makeshift holster. He wound up like a baseball batter, getting in position and waiting for the creature to reach him. As soon as it was within swatting distance, he swung, bashing the zombie’s head in with the force of it. The creature’s skull crunched, the pipe nearly going halfway through it, and the corpse fell to the ground.
“Nice hit, babe,” Susanna said.
He grinned and playfully rubbed his shoulder as if he’d strained it. “Yeah, still need to warm up a bit more, but I’ll get there.”
They headed along the main road leading to the western side of the harbor, looking down the side streets for any activity.
“You think we need to do a thorough sweep?” Emily asked.
Susanna shook her head. “I wouldn’t, unless we run into a lot of them,” she replied. “If we miss one or two, it isn’t gonna hurt anything.”
They headed up the next block, and found four zombies mingling around a house.
Myles led the casual walk towards them, swinging his pipe at his side. “So Emily, how is your daughter doing?” he asked as they moved. “I can’t imagine this is easy for a young teenager.”
“Florence is doing great, actually,” Emily replied, slinging her rifle over her shoulder and pulling out her crowbar. “Thanks for asking. She was always into reading, so with no school she’s just been happy to curl up by the fire and read away.”
“That’s good,” Myles replied as he reached the first creature, and clocked it on the top of the skull with his pipe. “You know, if she ever does want to get out of the house, we’re still doing a lot of activities at the Prime Dude Ranch. We’re doing a lot of survival basics for some of the city folk, but we have fun stuff for the younger set, too.”
Emily stepped forward and rammed the end of her crowbar through the back of a zombie’s head. “Not sure she’d be into doing crafts and going camping,” she admitted as the body crumpled to the ground. “But she might be interested in teaching some of the kids.”
“Oh yeah, we’d love to have her come do that,” Myles said, swinging again to deliver a final blow to his opponent. “Since she loves to read, maybe she could come do a campfire story time.”
Susanna approached the other two zombies, and cracked a tire iron over the first one’s head. “A group of us were going to go up to Almont in a couple of days to hit up the library,” she said, and twirled around to smack the second ghoul in the face, dropping it. “If you’d feel comfortable with Florence going on, we’d love to have the two of you join us. That way she can stock up on whatever books she’d like.” She wiped off her iron and holstered it.
“Thank you,” Emily replied with a smile as she holstered the crowbar. “I think she’d like that.” They looked around down the side street and saw no more zombies, so they headed back up the main road to the north. “So, how are the city people we rescued doing at the ranch?” she asked. “Learning how to fend for themselves?”
“A few of them are,” Myles replied. “Got these three guys who were all in a basketball league together if you can believe it. All of them are super competitive, wanting to outdo the others. They’re thriving. The rest… well…” He grimaced. “Let’s just say at least nobody has shot themselves in the foot yet.”
Susanna chuckled. “Not for a lack of trying, from what I heard.”
“That’s true,” Myles admitted. “But honestly, most of them are just happy to get out of their new living situations.”
Emily nodded. “Must be culture shock going from their posh big city condos to living in a farmhouse that was built eighty years ago.”
“We have them spread out pretty good, though,” Susanna said. “Usually only six to ten people living on a farm. Could be a whole lot worse if we didn’t have so many of the places abandoned for one reason or another.”
Myles shook his head. “This farming season is going to be real interesting.”
They reached the top of the road where it wound back to the east to the northern bridge out of harbor town. Far in the distance was the Interstate 194 Bridge, the southernmost route out of Bismarck.
Miles frowned, and pulled his hunting rifle from his back, fiddling with the scope before lifting it to his eye and looking through it.
Susanna raised an eyebrow. “You see something, hon?”
“Nah, just thought I’d check in on our snowplow barricade,” he replied. “Make sure there’s no trouble.”
She put her hands on her hips. “You know, we’re going to be walking up there, right?” she asked, amused. “That’s where we’re meeting up with Ernest and Glenn.”
“Yep, but if there’s trouble I lik
e to know about it before walking into it,” he explained.
Susanna shook her head. “There hasn’t been five of those things on that bridge since we blocked it off,” she argued.
Myles readjusted the scope before looking through it. “Just humor me, hon.”
Emily tugged on the younger woman’s shirt. “Free advice from someone who was married for a number of years,” she said quietly, though she wasn’t really hiding her voice from Myles. “Let them have little victories like this. Not only does it make them feel like they matter to you, but it also gives you another arrow in your quiver for when you lay into them about all the things you’ve done for them. Makes it a lot easier to get your way on the big stuff.” She winked playfully, and the women threw their heads back with laughter.
“What the fuck?” Myles demanded.
Susanna wiped her eyes in her mirth. “Don’t worry, babe, I would never do that to you.” Tye women continued laughing.
After a moment, they realized he hadn’t been talking to them, that he’d been staring through the scope, shoulders tense.
“What is it?” Susanna asked, approaching him.
Myles handed her the rifle. “Snowplow,” he said.
She lifted the scope to her eye and looked, focusing in on the snowplow. It looked like there was someone sitting on top of it, shivering. And just below them on the bridge side, there were a dozen creatures reaching up, arms outstretched and mouths open in hunger.
“There’s someone on the snowplow,” she breathed, dropping the gun to her side.
Emily pulled out her walkie talkie. “Ernest, come in,” she said into it.
“How is there someone up there?” Susanna demanded.
Myles shook his head. “Maybe they’re just trying to get out of the city,” he suggested.
She shoved the rifle into his hands and put her palms to her face. “That would mean we left someone behind, trapping them in there for weeks!”
He slung the rifle over his shoulder and wrapped his arms around her tightly. “We got everyone we could find, hon,” he cooed. “We saved a lot of people that day.”
“Ernest, will you come in?” Emily demanded. “We have a situation.”
The radio finally crackled to life. “Hey, Em, you okay?” Ernest asked.
“Yeah, we’re fine,” she replied quickly. “But you and Glenn need to get down to the I-194 bridge right now.”
“We’re still working our way south, so gonna be a little while,” Ernest replied.
Emily shook her head. “There’s a survivor.”
There was a small moment of silence, and then, “We’ll be there in five.”
CHAPTER TWO
The trio rushed up the interstate towards the bridge, about half a mile from where they’d been watching from. When they got to the edge of the bridge, they paused so that Myles could check through the scope again.
There were a dozen zombies lined up shoulder to shoulder, with a few doubling up. All of them focused on the person sitting on the snowplow. He couldn’t tell what the age or sex of the person was, as they were wearing a tattered grey hoodie and were curled up, arms around their knees.
“Good sized pack of creatures below them, but shouldn’t be that hard to take out,” he said. “Just gotta get them away from the plow.”
Emily nodded. “And the survivor?”
“They’re sitting upright,” he reported, “so unless they froze overnight I think they’re alive.”
Susanna pulled out her handgun, and fired it into the air. This stirred the survivor, and they stood up on top of the plow, removing the hood and turning to look at them. It looked like a young man in his mid twenties, the morning sun glinting off of brown hair. He waved at them, a big smile of relief on his face, and they waved back.
None of the zombies, however, turned towards the shot.
“Where the hell are Ernest and Glenn?” Susanna wondered.
Emily shrugged. “He said they’d be here in five minutes.”
“Which was ten minutes ago,” Susanna growled. “You’d think having a car would make them faster.”
Myles shook his head. “You have met them, right?”
She wrinkled her nose, but nodded, conceding the point. A few moments later, an engine rumbled in the distance. Up the interstate, a beat-up muscle car drove towards them, coated in patchy gray primer, and covered in a myriad of dents and bonks. The back window was busted out and covered in chicken wire. The only truly functional piece of it was the engine, which purred like a kitten.
“I swear that thing looks like it lost a demolition derby,” Susanna said, shaking her head.
Myles chuckled. “Don’t kid yourself hon, that car could drive to hell and back.” He cocked his head, amending, “Maybe not on a single tank, but it would get you there.”
The car revved loudly and pulled up to the edge of the bridge, skidding to a stop. Ernest and Glenn hopped out of the vehicle and approached them.
“Sorry we’re late,” Ernest said, his short slight frame looking like it was about to blow away in the wind. He ran a hand through his dyed black hair and motioned to his companion. “Hillbilly here wanted to take a short cut.”
Glenn pointed a finger at his short friend, towering over him, a sneer on his leathery face. “Listen here City Boy, I know this area like the back of my hand!”
“Unfortunately, you’re wearing gloves,” Ernest shot back.
The cowboy held up his hands, looking like he was noticing the light leather gloves for the first time. He jammed his hands into the pockets of his dirt-crusted jeans with a scowl. “Yeah, well, my hands get cold!”
“Don’t worry,” the shorter man said with a smirk, “we’ll get you back home in time for tea, you dainty doily.”
Glenn grumbled under his breath and turned to the trio. “So, what’s going on?” he finally asked.
Myles tossed his rifle over and pointed.
The tall cowboy peered through the scope, focusing on the survivor. “How in the holy hell?”
“Don’t know.” Myles shrugged.
Glenn handed the gun off to Ernest, who took a look as well, and then handed the gun back to his young friend. “Do you think you can pull them away from the plow?” he asked, heading for the backseat of the car. He reached into the backseat, and pulled out his bright silver plated 22-repeater, with a large lever on the trigger.
“I think we can arrange that,” Ernest replied.
Susanna raised an eyebrow. “Aren’t you worried about conserving ammo?” she asked.
“Nah, ole City Boy will be fine,” Glenn drawled. “He’s the only one content using that pussy twenty-two.”
Ernest clucked his tongue. “I just don’t have to overcompensate with my weapon choice,” he quipped, and before Glenn could put the insult together, he continued. “Besides, we found a huge cache of twenty-two ammo last time we went out. I can shoot for days and not worry about running out.” He checked his mag, popping in a few extra rounds until it was filled to the max. “We ready?”
The group headed up the bridge, and approached a car about thirty yards from the plows.
“When I’m in position, you start pulling them towards you,” Ernest said. “I want to make sure my aim isn’t anywhere close to the plows. Don’t want to run the risk of a ricochet. Hillbilly’s already been shot once.”
Emily turned to the tall cowboy. “How is your shoulder, by the way?”
“Stings a little, but I’ve been managing,” Glenn replied, rolling the offending shoulder.
Ernest rolled his eyes. “Don’t let him lie to you, it was a through and through.”
“In the shoulder?” Emily gaped.
“Never underestimate the positive side of super sizing every single meal,” Ernest said. “Provides a protective layer of fat everywhere.”
Glenn glared at him, but bit his tongue. Partially because he was right, but mostly because he didn’t want the city boy to get riled up. He needed to focus on shooting.
> Ernest ran up ahead, taking up position behind the car. When he was ready, he gave them a thumbs up.
The group began yelling and clapping their hands, and Susanna put her fingers in her mouth and let out a deafening whistle. Everyone winced and turned to her in shock.
“Myles, no matter how far away from home you get,” Glenn drawled, “she’s always gonna be able to call you back with that whistle.”
Susanna winked. “Oh, he knows.”
They shared a laugh and then continued to yell and hoot. Before long, the zombies at the plow finally started to break away from the survivor and head towards the noise.
Ernest steadied himself, waiting for the creatures to cross his line of sight. As soon as they did, he fired and quickly reloaded with the lever action. His aim was pure, catching the zombies in the side of the head, dropping them to the ground.
His first five shots were perfectly precise, but the gunfire attracted a few creatures in his direction, preventing him from getting a clear shot.
Myles stepped forward with his hunting rifle, to help his comrade out of his pickle. He aimed and fired a few times, hitting the zombies that had turned towards the car. Two heads exploded, giving Ernest the chance to duck out of sight, peering through the windows to keep an eye on the cluster of undead.
The two shots worked well, drawing the attention back to them. When the bulk of them were across the safe fire threshold, Ernest popped back up and unloaded quickly. One by one, the ghouls dropped to the ground, and in a matter of seconds the whole battle was over.
The short man popped out from behind the car and strolled over to the pile of fallen creatures, making sure all of his headshots had been true. “We’re clear,” he finally reported, and the group headed over towards the plow.
The man on top cautiously climbed down, stumbling at the bottom and falling to his knees.
Susanna and Emily immediately rushed over to him, helping him back to his feet. His legs were wobbly, and he felt so thin and wiry through his clothes.
“Are you okay?” Emily asked.
“Wa… water…” he rasped.
Susanna turned her head. “Myles, we need water!”
Dead America The Third Week Box Set | Books 7-12 Page 8
