The women became somber and shrank back into their seats. I glanced sideway at Kira and saw a solitary tear descend her left cheek toward the junction of her quivering lips. In the rearview mirror, Marilyn reflected the same downcast reaction. Her tall stature slouched down into the seat and I listened to muted sounds of sadness and despair. If you want to end a party mood, invite me over. I focused on driving, and we continued in silence.
West of Bloomington, we hit a treasure trove of food in the yard of a grocer's distribution warehouse. I parked inside the chain-link fenced area, and we ambled toward the warehouse that marred several acres of ground like a huge metallic scab. Several metal overhead doors on the loading dock were raised.
To our left, a solitary trailer sat away from the docking area. From thirty feet, it appeared a padlock secured the trailer's overhead door. I was curious; why had it been left there and why was it locked? The women stopped when I spoke about it.
We cut the lock's shackle and raised the door. In unison, we grinned and then shouted with joy. The load appeared to be outgoing because of the wide assortment of canned food products and boxes of other merchandise bound for area stores. It had likely been loaded and moved from the dock before everyone went home the day the warehouse shutdown due to the approaching deadly invasion that could no longer be denied.
Instead of transferring a portion of the load to the trailer behind our truck, I decided to steal a tractor and take the entire load back to our base. We could sort out containers that had frozen and burst as we unloaded.
Jumper cables charged the battery on a Peterbilt tractor for almost an hour. The diesel engine finally started, and I backed the tractor to connect to the trailer. Marilyn climbed up to the driver's door and knocked on the glass. I stopped the big rig to see what caused her look of concern. She spoke before the glass was fully lowered. "Look past my right side. There's an older model tan Humvee outside the perimeter fence. People are in it, and they're watching us. Kira saw them several minutes ago while you were starting the truck. They coasted silently down the fence line and stopped where they're at. She's watching and ready to return fire if they're hostile. What should we do, ignore them and leave or confront them?"
I thought the situation over for a few seconds. "Why don't you turn around and wave at them and see what their reaction is?" I grinned slightly as I added, "Be ready to dive for cover if a gun appears."
She frowned at me momentarily, not liking my attempt at being funny. She turned and hesitated several short breaths, then waved at the Humvee several times. She hopped off the truck's step, and then I backed up until I felt the tractor and box trailer lurch as they coupled.
Ignoring the strangers, I went to the back of the cab and connected the light cables and air hoses. In the distance, I heard loud exhaust noise. When I turned to look at the Humvee, it was gone. I followed the exhaust sound to the open front gate we'd entered. The military truck warily pulled through the opening and approached us. The truck's muffler had holes and the exhaust noise was intense.
I had the Glock on my thigh, but my rifle was in the truck cab. I swung up and reached inside the cab and grabbed the M14. The engine idled a bit rough, but I let it run. On the ground, I carried the rifle in the crook of my right arm, pointed downward. Marilyn moved between the tractor and trailer. She scrunched behind the dual wheels with her rifle aimed at the Humvee. I stepped away from her line of fire in case they attacked us.
"That's close enough," I yelled as I raised my arm. "Exit the truck and show yourselves." The Humvee stopped. A full minute passed before the chugging and smoking diesel engine shutdown. I nervously waited for movement. A man and woman in the front seats turned to each other as we watched and waited. What were they up to, if anything? Other people were seated behind them, but I didn't know how many. I felt naked and exposed standing in the open ten feet from the nearest cover.
Both front doors squeaked loudly as they tentatively swung open. The man and woman eventually stepped out. The short, plain, thin woman appeared fearful and hesitant. Two rear doors followed. More people stepped out. A total of three men, two women, and two teens, stood nervously waiting to see who would make the next move.
Kira hadn't shown herself or made a sound, but I knew she had me covered. I thought of her high target range rifle scores and knew she and Marilyn could be counted on in any situation to provide accurate, withering, rifle fire.
The driver, a medium height obese man gorging his way to being grossly fat, was in his mid to late thirties. His complexion was pale except for a deep pink nose. He stepped toward me with hands raised and palms empty.
I studied the mostly Caucasian group closely. "What do you want?"
The man didn't smile, but projected a serious, non-threatening, demeanor. "We waited to see if you were friendly. Two groups we met ran us off and threatened us." The woman who'd sat beside the driver gripped her left hand tightly with her right hand. She was shorter by several inches than the man I instinctively guessed she was with. The overweight man hesitated and glanced at her. "We've come from Minot, North Dakota. Minot was our home. It's been overrun by zombies, and as far as we know we were the last people alive there." He took a breath and appeared uneasy. The sun was at our backs and he squinted at me.
I tried to be firm but not unfriendly. "So, how does that involve us?"
"We've run into so many undead all along the way that we're real low on ammunition. I didn't have a lot to start with. We stopped at several gun shops, but they'd already been cleaned out. At a Bass Pro Shop near St. Cloud, we got inside and then we had to fight off a whole bunch of zombies to escape. That's where we picked up the two men, Jerome and, Sam." He motioned over his shoulder toward the second woman. "Vivian, was outside the store running down the street when we escaped, and she begged to come with us. The fuel tanks are almost empty, and we need food and water. Can you share some supplies with us or tell us where to get some? Can you?"
There was movement on my left as Kira edged closer. She was still unsure of the strangers and stayed behind cover while training her AK on them.
"We'll help you, but what's your destination?"
"I don't know. We don't have anyplace in mind. Do you—"
I judged the other people. The two teens now stood slightly behind the drab woman from the front passenger seat. Both were slender, a girl maybe thirteen and a taller boy about fifteen. Each was jittery and clearly as ill at ease as their mother.
Vivian, the lone Latino woman, late twenties, medium height, was wrapped tightly in a huge winter coat with the hood up. She stood slightly apart from the others. She was scared and looked like a hare perched to jump and flee at any moment.
Jerome and Sam stood behind the others, one on either side of the vehicle. Concerned, cautious, not afraid, one middle aged, one younger, both fit, both wearing tan Carharts with pistols holstered at their right thighs. Their arms were folded across their chests as they struck relaxed nonconfrontational poses.
"— know how far we'll have to go to a place where we'll find other people? Surely there are towns that were able to fight the zombies off and survive. Right?"
I shook my head. "I don't know of any town in the states surrounding Iowa that weren't overrun. We're all on our own."
There were loud murmurs and the two women slumped in defeat as they openly sobbed at the news that no towns were safe havens. I heard Vivian mumble, "Oh my God."
I raised my eyebrows as I threw a questioning glance at Marilyn. She nodded. I turned to Kira as she stepped away from her hidey hole. Her rifle was still leveled at the new people. "Me too." She nodded as she pointed the barrel of her weapon at the gravel. Marilyn followed Kira's lead.
I smiled because of the caring attitude I'd learned to expect from my friends. "We have a compound in Iowa. Twenty-seven of us live there, twenty-two adults and five children. We're the closest thing to a safe town I know of. Do you want to join us?"
The strangers exchanged speculative looks, and then
smiled broadly. Shortly, nods of approval were universal. Several ‘thanks’ were given before I spoke. "When we get there, you'll be examined by our doctor. Afterward you'll be put in solitary confinement for three weeks. If you've not been infected by contact with a zombie, you'll be accepted into the group. If you are infected and begin the transition cycle, you'll be terminated. That's our most stringent rule. Acceptance of those terms is mandatory."
It took a little longer to elicit yeses, but they finally agreed to the harsh non-negotiable term.
Kira pointed and lightened the mood, "We're running ahead of schedule because of finding this full trailer of food and other stuff." She turned to address me. "I was inside the warehouse for half an hour while you started the truck. There are a lot of things that haven't been touched. Can we make a quick pass through the warehouse while we're here? There's no telling what we might find. Most people are after food and ammunition. But big grocery stores carried a lot more than that."
We formed two groups. I took Nate and Vera Robard and their two teens, Mitch and Susie. Jerome Watters, Sam Williams, and Vivian Alverez went with Marilyn and Kira.
The majority of the food items had been picked through, but we loaded up on linens, non-prescription medicines, bandages, cosmetics, personal grooming items, light bulbs, soap and other miscellaneous items. A major find was canning supplies and equipment. We cleaned those items out. When the doors on our twenty foot cargo trailer closed, it was more than nine-tenths full.
Several over the road tractors on the lot had partial tanks of diesel, so we siphoned enough to fill the tanks on the Peterbilt and the fuel guzzling Humvee. While we transferred fuel, I asked Nate, "Where did you find this monster?"
"A friend of mine had it stored in a barn on his ranch. When we got there in my car, zombie carcasses littered the place. He and his family were inside the house dead. I suspect he killed the family members and then committed suicide at the end fearing they'd be overrun. Given the circumstances, I knew he wouldn't care if we took it. That's where we found the guns and ammunition we brought. I didn't own any guns before, so I'm just learning to shoot. I'm not good at it, and my wife hates guns. She won't even touch one."
I wound the siphon hose. "We have mandatory exercise programs and target practice for everyone including your teens. You need to share that with her on the way. We can't afford to have people who can't defend themselves; they're liabilities. You'll both get the hang of it."
Nate winced noticeably at the mention of exercise.
Late that night, the seven possible new members were fed and then examined by our doctor before being locked in the six holding cells. Vera and Susie shared one.
The next morning, Albert Gonzales brought the Humvee into the shop area for an inspection and servicing. He patched the muffler with sheet metal and performed routine maintenance on the engine. While cleaning the interior of trash, he found cases of beer and whiskey stashed in the back. Liquor, tobacco and street drugs were banned by our group from its inception, so we emptied the liquor and buried the containers with the other trash.
When Albert and his son, Vince, were satisfied with the Humvee's condition, it was fueled, parked by the livestock barn, and locked. I didn't see a need for it, but who knew what our future needs would be.
That afternoon I sat on a wood bench outside our survivor's compound. I was next to Kira Schafer. The afternoon sun warmed us despite an aggressive breeze carrying December's chilly temperature. She'd suggested we talk about the day a month before when Connie Diuguid, my ex-girlfriend, attacked her. She leaned her brunette hair against the metal panels and stretched her long legs out in front of her.
"As the evidence against her mounted," Kira began, "there was no doubt Connie wanted to kill me. But why did she think we might be intimate when there wasn't...”
I started to speak, but Kira waved me off. She threw a harsh questioning look at me.
"You didn't use me as a reason to drop her, did you?"
I'd sat staring at the woods, some six hundred feet away, which surrounded our compound. I turned on the bench to face Kira as I shook my head. "I did not use you as a reason to untangle myself from Connie because there was and is nothing between us. I'd simply grown tired of her demanding, possessive attitude. After Emma died, I was lonely and still suffering her loss. Connie was there for me. She was attentive and helpful, and initially there was an attraction. It's strange and disheartening for me to accept that I enabled a relationship with the woman who caused my wife's death. I feel like a dodo."
My M14 stood upright against the bench, and I grabbed it after my arm brushed it and knocked it off balance. Yeah, a dodo. "Connie confronted me several times after seeing you and I talking; she was extremely jealous and possessive. I soon learned she was somewhat paranoid and unstable, too, so I ended the relationship."
Kira stared in mock horror. "Somewhat unstable is putting it mildly. Connie should have been committed to a mental hospital. She was friendly when she and I crossed paths, especially when others were around. But occasionally, I'd turn toward her, and she'd be glaring at me for no reason. It's still scary that she could hate me enough to set me up to be attacked by those undead monsters because she perceived me as a threat to your relationship with her."
"I know. Looking back, it still doesn't seem possible that my dropping her as a girlfriend would cause her to try to murder you. But I have to take her word that it was what drove her to set you up to die by the hands of the zombies."
Kira's expression turned somber. "It's even stranger that she arranged the death of her fiancé and then your wife to get close to you. You're a strong leader. I've seen that. But it's not like you're movie star handsome or super charismatic."
"Thanks a lot,” I responded sarcastically. “If we're finished, let's go back inside. It suddenly got too chilly to sit outside."
Kira grimaced and laid her hand on mine. "Sorry. I didn't mean for that to come out quite like that or so strong. I apologize, handsome. Can we just be friends?"
I nodded but remained serious. "After Emma died, I jumped into a bad relationship too soon because I didn't let enough time pass. So, casual friends is good."
We stood to go back inside to safety and warmth. "I hear Janice, Marilyn and Andrea have been spending time talking to you about your run in with the man who raped and beat you. Has it helped?"
Her face flushed. She looked embarrassed to talk about it with me. "They and Ira and several others have been very helpful and attentive. I'm dealing with it better, but it's not totally under control." She smiled again. "Even at twelve, Paige has been my biggest supporter and salvation. Thank you for asking."
Three weeks after their arrival, we welcomed the seven new survivors to our group on December 22, 2021. While I had no direct objections to Nate and Vera, there was an undercurrent about them that bothered me. Before the welcoming meeting, Shane Holescheck and I discussed the couple. "When you give this group your initiation spiel, don't mention the gold we have. There's something about Nate and Vera that doesn't set right. It's not that I don't like them, but he fires up feelings of doubt and concern in me."
"I agree about the gold," Shane said. I didn't plan to tell Kira about our bullion either. It just slipped out without my thinking since everyone here knows about it. I'll spread the word for everyone else to not mention it either. What are your concerns about the Robards?"
"I wish I knew. It's not that simple or concrete. It's more his attitude and occasional sly looks and comments that don't seem right or appropriate for the time or situation. Maybe he's just a smartass or a jerk, and I'm making too much of it."
"I doubt that. You've proven to be a good judge of character, or lack thereof, so I'll respect your opinion and keep my eyes and ears open."
"Also Ira and Marcie both said Nate was experiencing symptoms of alcohol withdrawal during his stay in isolation. When I met him, I suspected that red nose was from excessive drinking. As much as you and I used to enjoy a drink, if we c
an do without it so can he."
During the meeting, we learned Nate had been a manager in a fast food restaurant and Vera was a housewife.
Jerome Watters spent twenty-two years in the army. For the next two years, he'd drifted from one job to another as he travelled the country looking for a place to settle. And then the zombies happened. He was tall, stocky and friendly. Three failed marriages while he was in the army convinced him to remain single.
Sam Williams came from Canada. He was in the States working when the zombies hit. He'd worked at several northern state’s oil refineries in several construction trades. He and Jerome met in a bar, formed a friendship and stayed together for survival as the zombies overran North Dakota. He was twenty-six, slender, medium height, and liked to tell jokes. Funny clean jokes.
The last of the new arrivals, Vivian Alverez, said she was twenty-eight and originally immigrated to the US from Mexico. She was vague about her past but said she'd worked at a variety of service type jobs and could help in a lot of areas. I guessed she was five feet seven, with a slender build and movie star looks.
Overall I was pleased with our new members and felt they were good additions, in spite of my uneasy feeling about Nate Robard.
An hour after the meeting broke up, I heard my name called. Shane and Nate each yelled for me to stop. They'd entered through the north door with Vera doggedly trailing behind. Winter coats and hats over ruddy faces attested to the severe temperature drop that blew in from the north overnight. Nate wore a frown on his wind-burned red face, and his fists were clenched at his sides. He yelled at me from twenty feet and waddled closer. Several people in the area stopped their activities to watch the brewing confrontation.
Outnumbered series Box Set | Vols. 1-6 Page 8
