Outnumbered series Box Set | Vols. 1-6

by Schobernd, Robert

  We eased around the corner and walked quickly with medium steps straight toward our maroon colored truck. After we'd gone only twenty feet, the undead at the end of the building turned toward us and moaned louder as they moved in our direction. The slow movers shuffled along and began to shriek shrilly. Softly I said, "Now. Run like hell." I stayed in front of Kira but listened for her footsteps close behind me. To our left, more zombies swarmed from the store's front entrance amid shrill cries.

  We closed on the truck and I hoped we'd reach it first, but it would be close. If we weren't first, we were dead. From twenty feet away, I hit the fob button and saw the truck's lights flash once. At the fender, I stopped to let Kira pass by me. A fast zombie was twenty feet away. I blasted it twice and it fell. Two more fast ones took its place and they fell to the bullets of my gun. I swung around the open truck door, tossed the rifle butt first to Kira and lunged up and onto the seat. I grabbed the armrest and pulled the door shut with all my strength as Kira screamed. A split second before the door slammed shut, a frail, young looking, recently dead, full bodied, zombie grabbed the edge of the door. The door slammed shut with enough force to rock the truck cab. Above new scratching and pounding noises I heard the zombie's bones crush. Screeching, moaning zombies swarmed the truck, pounding on the sheet metal and the glass. The door held shut as I fumbled to get my electronic key into the ignition port. The engine started instantly with the throaty roar of a big bore diesel.

  At least a dozen zombies stood at the hood and fenders pounding and clawing the metal while two attempted to climb up onto the slippery hood in ungainly moves.

  I yanked the gearshift lever into drive as I heard a power window lower. A zombie stood at the passenger door furiously banging its eyeless, moldy skull against the glass. I watched the window drop two inches and stop. Kira stuck the barrel of her pistol through the opening and blasted the creature trying to attack her, and then she quickly emptied the magazine at other undead before she raised the glass.

  The engine raced as I fed it fuel and the truck and trailer surged through the swarm of undead. The truck lurched as it passed over decaying bodies and I felt the trailer hitch tug against the ball connector when it rolled and jostled over them. Our speed increased until the horde of undead was a block behind us, but still they ran to catch up. The one with its fingers caught in my door was still with us, dragged along beside the truck.

  Many blocks from Sportsman's Paradise, I slowed toward a car parked on the opposite side of the street. I swerved hard to the left and brought the truck to a crawl. The front fender was inches from the car as we crept forward. The rotting zombie moaned loudly and clawed at the glass with its left hand. It was caught between the two vehicles. The truck edged forward an inch at a time. The decayed torso and limbs were ripped apart as the truck crawled alongside the car. I stopped and backed up before the trailer's fender hit the car. When we were in a safer area I opened the door and brushed the zombie's remains away from the door and doorframe.

  Kira had been reticent since we'd left the store. I glance at her. Tears ran down her flushed cheeks. Her eyes were shut tightly, and her hands fisted.

  "Are you okay? Are you hurt?" I asked urgently.

  She sank back into the seat and shook her head. "The last zombie I shot. . . I recognized it. It was James." She closed her eyes and looked away. "Poor James." We rode in silence for several hours until she was able to deal with it and speak with less emotion.

  We were anxious to get back. Both of us were well rested, so we agreed to drive through the night. We'd hold the speed to fifty MPH in the dark, so we could avoid debris, and we'd switch drivers every three or four hours as we tired.

  It was dark when Kira spoke and punched my shoulder. "Were still in Nebraska. Look." I saw the dash clock. It was ten minutes past midnight. I'd been asleep for two hours and woke groggy. Headlights in the other lane were still a good distance away. She said, "I'll stop and see who it is."

  "Slow down to a crawl, but don't stop until we learn who they are." I retrieved a radio from the glove box. It had a two mile range in open areas like we were driving through.

  I turned the switch on and keyed the button to transmit. "If you have a radio, identify yourself."

  There was a pause, some static, then laughter. "Where the hell have you been, Pal?" It was my buddy Shane.

  "Hi, Shane. If you'll go to a turnaround, we'll crawl along until you get here so we can talk."

  Marilyn, Ed and Jeff Tanka were with Shane. We told them about our trip and the loss of James Anderson.

  Shane said, "We're glad to have you back and safe. We were worried. Let's go home. We'll follow you."

  Early the following afternoon, we arrived at the compound.

  When we'd settled in, Shane took me aside for an update of events during my absence.

  "The committee for naming our compound has picked five names to be voted on at the next weekly meeting. Here's the list they came up with."

  I gave the options a cursory look and was satisfied with all, but two stood out as my picks.

  Shane continued, "Materials for the fence have been located and a retrieval plan is in place. John completed the excavation and backfill drawings. Albert and Vince went to the Consolidated Materials yard west of here, and they have the equipment we'll need ready to run when it's needed. Albert will stay in the shop working on equipment and Vince will start excavating tomorrow morning. They estimate it'll take three days with Sam Williams and Tony Osmand hauling the dirt away in tandem wheeled dump trucks to that washed out gully past the livestock barn. Tomorrow, I'll get two people to ride shotgun for them.

  "Now our problem child, Nate. He complains constantly. He's hungry, the work is too hard, he's a professional manager and shouldn't be forced to grub in the dirt like a peasant. The guy is nothing but a pain in the rear. Nobody wants to work around him."

  Nate had become a serious problem and wore on everyone's nerves. Something had to be done with him, but what? Nothing we'd tried to motivate him had worked.

  As we stood, I said, "Add one other job to our growing list. We need a grave marker for James Anderson, even if he won't be interred under it, he should be remembered. I'll talk to Sam about making one."

  After a good night’s sleep, I still didn't have a solution to the thirty-something-year-old problem child.

  At ten that morning all work was stopped, and we gathered at the cemetery. Angela Michaels had been closest to James Anderson because they'd worked together every day. She'd gone to James room and selected several personal items he had spoken of with pride and put them in a carved wooden box.

  The box was gently lowered into the grave before Angela and I read our eulogies honoring James during his time with us. The memory of zombie victim number ten was laid to rest with the respect and love James deserved.

  For two days, I spent much of my time with Janice juggling names on the schedule to accomplish the multitude of projects we had going while still manning security, food and ammo excursions, animal husbandry, cooking and domestic positions. The big garden being prepared for planting would consume many work hours during the remaining spring, summer and fall seasons. An even larger concern to me was next year’s planned huge harvest and canning of vegetables. None of us had any idea of how long we could continue to count on finding canned food that hadn't frozen and burst, deteriorated or spoiled inside the containers in stores and warehouses.

  In addition to everything else, Nate Robard had to be dealt with on a daily or sometimes twice daily basis. So far I'd managed to remain calm while attempting to reason with the man, but Shane and the other workers hadn't reported an improvement in Nate's attitude or work output. He'd grown so obnoxious everyone on the crew refused to work near him.

  At ten in the morning, everyone assembled for the weekly meeting. We started with a fun thing: the naming of the compound. The selected names were listed in alphabetical order on a flip chart on a stand in front of the seated crowd.

 
; Marilyn spoke as she and Kira passed voting slips to each member to write the name they'd selected. The adopted name would adorn the wall at the end of the compound. "Remember, one vote per person, kids included. When you're finished, pass them back to me or Kira. The committee members who chose the final five will tally the votes."

  There was good-natured banter as the votes were collected and then counted. Marilyn took the floor again. "Okay everyone, listen up. The fifth runner up name is Hope. Kira stood at the flipchart and crossed through the name with a black marker.

  "The fourth runner up is, Resurrection." Kira scratched that name.

  "The third runner up is... Libertyville. Marilyn moved her arms and made noise like a drum roll.

  "The fourth runner up is...Salvation. Folks murmured to addition faux drum rolls.

  "And the name selected, by a wide margin I might add, is Deliverance.

  After mild applause died down, Marilyn spoke again. "According to my American Heritage Dictionary, the word ‘deliverance’ means rescue from bondage or danger. I think that's the perfect name for our group. Thanks to all of you for taking part in naming our compound. The name will be installed as soon as Sam can make the sign."

  The committee members received a round of applause before Angela appeared with a cart full of trays of baked goods and iced tea for everyone.

  After ten minutes, I stood to address the group. "Next week's schedule is posted outside the office. Let Janice know if you see a conflict with your assignment. The fence project is on schedule and materials will be transferred here next week.

  "As discussed at the last meeting, the procurement of horse drawn equipment for the future will begin later this summer but work on a building to store the equipment until it is needed will begin after the fence installation."

  Nate stood and said. "Who do I need to see to be assigned to a different job?"

  I grimaced as I exhaled deeply. "What job do you feel you're better suited for?"

  "My health isn't good. So something in a management position is what I need."

  I decided to take off the kid gloves and have it out with Nate in front of the group. "There are no management positions here. We've tried you in the kitchen because of your past job experience, and that was a disaster. You haven't convinced me or Shane that you have any job skills that apply here, and you aren't willing to learn new skills. You aren't proficient with a rifle or pistol because you won't listen to the instructor. Without shooting proficiency, sending you on procurement runs isn't feasible. And you've been useless at guard tower duty because you won't stay awake for eight hours." I felt sorry for Mitch and Suzie as they sat beside Vera with their heads bowed.

  Nate’s face bloomed red and he screamed. "Now you just hold on here! I have health issues you need to con—”

  I moved to stand in front of people sitting in the front row. "You do not have health issues that prevent you from working. Ira examined you and there's nothing wrong except for your obesity. The reasons you don't work or attempt to exercise are because you are unmotivated, lazy and grossly overweight. Working in the garden is the only job we have for you."

  Nate plowed ahead. "Ira isn't a doctor; he's a veterinarian, and a quack at that. And speaking of the garden, you can't force my kids to work all summer in the blazing sun. That's exploiting child labor and there's a law against that."

  "Dad!" Mitch and Suzie jumped up and Mitch said, "Suzie and I volunteered to work in the garden because we owe these people our lives. All of the kids did, even the smallest ones. We want to help, and you should too. You're an embarrassment the way you carry on and avoid taking any responsibility and shirk the jobs you're given. Please try and work for all of us." Tears ran down both teens’ faces

  Nate turned to his family. "So this is the gratitude and loyalty I get from you spoiled brats for raising you all these years. And you too, Vera. You haven't supported me either."

  Nate turned back to me. "You said you won't send me on any trips because I can't shoot good enough. I've got news for you, I won't go. How come Jerome and James died on two trips you were leading, but you managed to come back without a scratch both times? You're a poor excuse for a leader and need to be replaced."

  Several people spoke at once as pandemonium took over. I yelled and waved my arms for everyone to calm down. "Okay, Nate. Who do you suggest replace me?"

  Nate clearly struggled. "I have management experience, I can lead these people."

  There were loud hoots of derision and laughter from across the crowd.

  "Nate, your family has been embarrassed more than enough, so I won't even put that preposterous suggestion to a vote. The only job open to you is in the garden crew. But your laziness won't be tolerated. You have to show improvement or you can leave. No one here is going to carry you. This is not an entitlement based welfare society."

  Before Nate could retort I said, "That's it, the meeting is adjourned."

  I heard Nate say, "Pack your things, we're leaving. I'll go get the Humvee." In unison Mitch and Suzie yelled, "No, Dad." Mitch put his arm around Suzie and stood next to Vera. "We're not leaving. We're staying here. Suzie and I have talked about it and we're not going with you if you leave."

  Most of the people drifted away. Several hung close-by watching the antics. I spoke with Shane while we both kept an eye toward the Robard family.

  Nate stepped to Mitch and slapped him hard in the face with an open palm. Mitch staggered a step but unflinchingly stood his ground. "I said go pack and do it now or you'll get another smack."

  Shane and I and several others surrounded the Robards instantly. I grabbed Nate's arm. "Don't you dare strike any of them again. If you want to leave, go; but if your family chooses to stay, they're welcome here." I turned to Vera. "I hope you'll stay, too. You won't live long if you leave here because Nate isn't capable of defending any of you. Please stay for the sake of your children."

  Vera still sat. She looked up at Nate with indecision etched on her face.

  Susie sat and hugged her close, pleading evident in her gaze. Mitch knelt in front of Vera. "Please, Mom. We need you here with us. Let him go. All he does is complain about you and knock you around when he's mad. End it now and let us all get away from his temper tantrums and abuse. We have a home here, and me and Suzie aren't leaving."

  Vera made eye contact with Nate for several seconds, and then she shook her head. She stood, put her arms around both children, and they walked away. Susie looked back with tears flowing but didn't stop. I guessed it was probably the only major decision Vera had ever made of her own volition.

  Nate glared at Vera and his kids and screamed, "Go to hell! I don't need you! You'll be sorry for turning on me." He turned back to me with a venomous stare. "Okay, Tom. You and your ilk have managed to turn my family against me, so I'll leave. When we got here I had guns and some ammunition and the Humvee. Are you going to keep them or give them back?"

  I turned to Shane. "Have the Humvee brought up. I'll gather his guns and give him extra ammunition." Kira stood to the side watching. "Kira, will you ask Andrea to put enough food and bottled water for a week into a box, and have it moved to door nine?"

  Nate was still in front of me. "You should be ready to leave in fifteen or twenty minutes." Martin Radcliff stood ten feet away observing us. "Martin, will you escort Nate until he leaves. If he goes to his family’s room for anything and causes trouble shoot him on the spot." Nate was further surprised when I said. "If you cause any trouble before you go, you'll be shot dead, so tread lightly. I've had enough of your hateful crap. You're nothing but a little bully who beat your wife and intimidated your kids. We'll all be better off without you around."

  I turned on my heel and stalked away to the armory for Nate's guns and ammo. Minutes later, Nate drove off as I made two silent wishes: one, he'd survive okay in spite of my animosity for him, and wish number two, that I'd never see the pugnacious fool again.

  The rest of the day I purposely avoided people. When I finished
all the tasks I intended to I stepped outside and waved at Shana Thompson who'd come on duty in the southeast guard tower. I sat on a bench in the fading sunlight and a light breeze, leaned back against the siding, and reviewed the happenings of the past week. It had been one hell of a week and I was beat.

  A soft voice said, "Want some company?" Kira looked at me sympathetically before she sat. "You alright?"

  I smiled weakly and nodded. "Yeah, I'm good. But for some reason I feel like I went ten rounds with a professional boxer. A heavy weight boxer with a hell of a punch. This has been some week."

  "It's been a painful week, with the death of James and all the stress you're under from day to day. But remember and bask in the fact that you practically got a standing ovation earlier today from all of us when your leadership was challenged. Everyone here is glad to have you as our leader, caretaker, confessor and most importantly friend."

  "And that includes you?"

  "Yeah, that includes me. Definitely me."

  Kira scooted closer until we touched shoulder to shoulder, thigh to thigh. We relaxed and together watched the sun set peacefully behind the shimmering trees.

  OUTNUMBERED volume 3

  Prologue

  The imminent decline of mankind has only now become apparent to and accepted by all the survivors at Deliverance. Most of our people resisted accepting the eventual cataclysmic fall from the Age of Technology to the lifestyles and hardships of the fifteenth century. But as the life we've known slips away like a run-away locomotive hurtling down a steep grade and then over a precipice, they've grudgingly come to accept it.

  If we survive the zombie onslaught and the atrocities brought by other humans, our heirs will be privy to a spectacular regeneration as the earth cleanses itself of man's past wasteful and destructive ways.

  In the past three years our people have experienced man's inhumanity to man first hand. Because of that, we are back to the most basic of vigilante justice; we believe in the law of retaliation and literally take a tooth for a tooth, an eye for and eye, and a life for a life. Our code of justice is harsh and quick, but fair and final. We can't afford to be weak, for weakness begets ever more oppression and pain. We are the survivors at Deliverance.