by Thomas Baker
Only one left. Gus took a deep breath and fired. And that's the ballgame.
It took Gus a minute to get his knees to cooperate. He struggled to a standing position. When he was finally up and turned around, he was staring down the barrel of a rifle. At the other end of the gun was the man in the fatigues.
"Well you got one hell of a way of showing your gratitude don't ya there slick." Gus was trying to size him up past the gun barrel.
"Who are you?" the man in the fatigues asked, in a manner that was blunt and to the point.
To Gus, he looked like a dozen other middle aged army guys he had known in his life. Lined face, buzzed blond hair. His stiff posture and overbearing attitude screamed enlisted man.
"I'm Gus," he said, extending out his hand. "I am also the guy who just saved your ass in case you hadn't noticed"
"I didn't ask for your help now did I?" the man snapped back.
"You must be military. It's not just that awful hair either that gave it away. I've known a few of your types in my time," Gus said, dropping his hand back to his side. "So let's drop the hurrah, macho bullshit and listen up, fella. I don't want any trouble from you. It would be a damn shame if the first real person I have seen in days put a bullet in my head. So, let's try this a different way."
He raised his hand up again.
"Name's Gus. Been holed up here for a few days, I think? Maybe longer, maybe not. Foods running low and there ain't shit worth value here. This house been abandoned for a while, unless there's some backwoods hillbillies out on a pig hunt who like living in two inches of dust."
The man didn't crack a smile, but he did lower his rifle.
"What's your name, partner?" Gus stood with his hand still extended. He was about to get pissed off from the guys lack of manners. The man in the fatigues looked at Gus's hand for a long while. What the hell? Does he think I'm going to wrestle him to the ground or something? Hesitantly the man finally took his hand and gave it one quick pump.
"My name is Sergeant Dustin Moore, but you can call me Dusty. I was on my way to the nearest base when I ran out of gas. I started walking, and that's when I ran into them."
Dusty scanned the room, then turned back to Gus. Assessing the situation Gus guessed.
"I hate to tell you this Gus, but about two miles away there's three wrecked school buses. Around those school buses are a bunch of zombie kids. They were milling around till they heard me pass by. They just kept following me. Those few zombies we just killed? That's nothing compared to what is probably coming our way after those shots you fired."
It was weird to Gus, hearing Dusty say zombie just as casually as if they were saying a thunderstorm was coming. He really still thought they were just crazy people. Extremely tough crazy people, but zombies? Well, if he was going to be honest with himself, the notion did cross his mind. He had plenty of time to think the last few days. It was hard to wrap his head around, but Dusty here seemed to believe it.
"Well Dusty, aren't you all sunshine and rainbows," Gus sighed. "I reckon that is about the shittiest news you could have shared with me. However, it's still a pleasure to meet you. I'm retired military myself. What are your supplies and ammo like? Will we be able to make a stand here?"
"Well old man, it doesn't look like we will have much time to plan out what to do," Dusty said, staring past Gus and out the window.
Gus turned to look and saw about a dozen more zombies stumbling through the field in their direction.
"I don't suppose you brought a tank did ya Sarge?"
"I don't think this is the time for jokes. While you have been holed up, I have been out there," Dusty said, walking around the room. "I have been doing recon, gathering intel. Some of these things seem smarter than the others. Faster, more agile. I don't know. I'm no doctor or anything. Anyway, I think our best bet right now is staying here, staying quiet, and let's hope they lose interest and pass on by. Then we move on. Staying in one spot isn't safe."
"You sure about that?" Gus said, unconvinced it was a good idea." I've been in a few fights with them. Like you said, attracted to sound like I'm attracted to a nice rack. With the fireworks show we just put on, I'd say the chances of that happening are slim Sarge."
"Let me show you something real quick. You got any binoculars?"
"Sure do," Gus answered. Deciding to humor Dusty, he reached into one of his large camping bags and pulled them out.
Dusty pushed past Gus and knelt out the window. Gus shrugged and joined him. Dusty brought his rifle up to look out the sight. "Those seven we killed were just a branch of a much bigger pack spread out between here and the bus crash."
Gus peered through his binoculars, scanning the grounds around the house.
"Alright old man now look, you see the chubby dead kid with no shirt on about thirty yards out?"
"Yeah. What about him? You like his little man boobies?"
Dusty dropped the rifle down and sneered at Gus.
"Do you take anything seriouslyold timer?" Dusty said, annoyed.
"Not veryoften, according to my ex-wife." Gus smiled back.
Dusty returned to looking through his scope, still sneering.
"Anyway, you see how he's shuffling along? Slow and awkward? Now look about sixty feet to his right at the one in the cheerleader outfit. You see her?"
"Yep, but I think ole chubby has a better rack than her," Gus said, sweeping his binoculars to the right.
"Seriouslyman! Come on!" Dusty's face began to turn red.
Gus choked down a chuckle. "Go ahead Sarge."
"You notice how she is just kind ofstanding there?" Dusty said, terser than ever. "Looking around almost like she's alive? I've run into a few of those. She is more advanced or smarter or something. She's listening or smelling, damn I don't know how this works. What I doknow is this. She will be a fast one. I can guarantee it."
Gus dropped his binoculars down to stare at Dusty. "You reallymean it, don't you? These people have been turned into zombies? Like in the movies? Last I heard it was some kind of super rabies virus. I expected attack of the Cujo's, not attack of the living dead."
"I'm not sure what they told the civilian population. Hell, I wasn't told anything myself. The attack came out of the blue. I've just been surviving. After what I've seen though, what else could they be?"
Gus thought about that. What the hell, zombies or purple people eaters, guess it doesn't really matter. At this point he knew it was a war. Kill or be killed. Or something worse this time he guessed. Being turned into a deadhead.
"Alright, I will take your word on it," Gus said, letting it go. "Anyway, if you are right, how the hell can you tell the difference?"
"After my jeep broke down, I've been on foot. Gathering what intel I could. Some are reallyfast. I started calling them Runners. I've seen them chase down a few civilians. They always seem to be like the cheerleader I pointed out. I don't know how come they're different. It's not like I'm a biologist."
"So you're telling me if we go outside, we're pretty muchup shit creek?" Gus asked.
"I'm just saying, always pay attention and be careful old man."
"Is there a particular reason you keep calling me old man?" Gus asked, getting annoyed. "Did you not catch my name was Gus? Here is what I know about these hungry, hungry hippos. They bite you, you're screwed. I don't need to know how fast they are or what sexual orientation they are. I just need to shoot them in the head before they turn me into their next buffet."
Got him, Gus thought, as Dusty let out a snicker, shaking his head. Maybe this guy won't be so badafter all.
They waited, taking turns watching the zombie group slowly make its way closer and closer to the farmhouse.
"I see more moving in," Dusty told Gus. Dusk was beginning to fall and visibility was going to shit.
"Guess our luck's running out," Gus said. He laid on the bed, resting his eyes.
"I think you're right," Dusty said, biting out each word. "I don't think they're going to pass us. We better
move out before it gets completelydark. We are going to have a hard enough time making it out of here alive as it is."
"Shoot, I was just getting use to my little five star resort." Gus rose and started gathering his things.
"Any that get too close to the house we need to take out as quietly and as quickly as possible," Dusty said, formulating a plan as he went. "With any luck we'll take them out and head towards the highway. Follow it down to the next town where we can search for supplies."
Gus was about to say something about when had they decided they were a team. The sound of creaking boards stopped him. He thought some of them must have made their way onto the porch area.
"I'll take point out of the farmhouse," Dusty said, leaning closer to Gus and whispering. "You gather whatever you can and then take guard at the top of the stairs. Remember, don't fire your gun unless you have to. A knife to the eye or ear is just as lethal."
It took Gus a moment to process what he had just heard. He shook his head as he gathered up his supplies and weapon cache.
"Rambo. Just my luck. Maybe I was misunderstood all those years I wished for a bimbo...."
Gus was mildly questioning himself as he loaded up his arsenal. Should I reallyjust jump in bed with this guy? He thought to himself. On one hand, he's the first person I've seen in days that hasn't tried to eat me. Gus laughed at his own conversation in his head.
Gus finished loading up his gear. He lifted the bag with a grimace, the weight wrenched down on his shoulder. He went through the doorway and found Dusty standing at the top of the stairs with a finger to his lips. Gus stopped and looked at him. Dusty gave him some signal he didn't understand with his hands. Dusty pointed at him, then his eyes, then held up three fingers and finished with pointing down and making a circular motion.
Gus heard what sounded like someone dropping dishes downstairs.
"Oh, the zombies. Is there a reason you couldn't just say that?" Gus asked as low as he could.
Dusty gave him a hard stare. "Time to shut up and keep up old timer."
"I'll give it my best shot. I could move easier if you carried this bag." Gus hesitated. All of his extra weapons and ammo were inside of it. "I can trust you, can't I Sarge?"
"Well you don't really have a choice now do you," Dusty pointed out. "Hand it overto me."
Dusty slung the weapons bag over his shoulder like it weighed nothing. Oh to be young again. "You take good care of that Sarge. I'll be wanting it back."
Dusty just pointed down the stairs and cupped his ears.
"Sounds quiet downstairsto me. Too quiet," Gus said, getting serious. "What's our plan here?"
"We move down the stairs together, stay close, and stay tight. Avoid using your gun until you have to. It will help not to draw anymore attention to ourselves. We won't engage unless we have to. We make our way out the back and try to find cover as we go towards the highway. Hopefully once there, we can find a vehicle."
Gus let out a deep breath as he nodded his head in agreement and readied himself. He had kept his camping hatchet with him. He tightened it in his grip. Never had to take these things on up close before.
Dusty put his rifle strap over his head, unsheathed his knife and gave Gus a nod as he crept down the stairs.
Dusty was about halfway down when he reached over the railing. Beside the staircase was a long table with all kinds of junk on it. Dusty grabbed an old-fashioned three stick candle holder and threw it across the room. Three zombies that had been milling around bee lined towards the sound, away from them.
Dusty waved back to Gus. Gus started down the stairs, crouching as he went. They were only a few steps from the bottom when the next step let out a loud creak. Dusty held up a hand. Gus, who wasone step behind him, knew to stop. They held their position for a moment. Gus looked in the direction the three zombies moved to. Without warning, Gus was grabbed by the ankle.
"Holy Hell!" Gus yelled out.
An arm with several rotting gashes in it had snaked through the railing and was pulling Gus's ankle. Gus was trying to pull and kick it away at the same time. Dusty spun and brought his knife straight down, pinning the zombies hand to the steps. It didn't even seem to phase it as the zombie reached through with its other arm.
"Use your hatchet!" Dusty commanded.
Gus leaned over the rail and drove the hatchet right into its skull. The sound was like someone smashing an overripe watermelon, all smooshy and squishy. A commotion from across the room drew both men's attention.
"Those three are coming back Sarge," Gus stammered, trying not to panic.
One was fast. It was on top of Dusty before he could react. He fell back on the stairs almost taking Gus down with him. He used his leverage and kicked the first zombie. It wore the torn remains of a blue football jersey. It went flailing backwards and landed on its back. A second one, its naked torso filled with bite marks, was right behind it. It landed on top of him. Dusty was doing all he could to keep the snapping zombie jaws away from him.
"Down!" Gus yelled, catching Dusty's attacker in the side of the head with the hatchet.
Gore spilled onto Dusty's face. He sputtered as he crawled back to his feet beside Gus. The blue jersey zombie had recovered, stumbling to its feet. Dusty threw his knife, sinking it into the zombie's skull. The third zombie came slower, a cheerleader who looked almost normal. It was trying to get to Dusty and Gus over its fallen zombie friends. Gus didn't hesitate this time, splitting its skull openas well. It fell lifeless down the stairs.
"Get this shit off of me!" Dusty wiped at his face with his hands and sleeves." Christ old man! How have you lived this long?!? Don't you pay attention!?"
"Are you done?" Gus asked. "Because more dinner guests have arrived."
He pointed towards the door that led into the kitchen. The doorway was open, the door laid in pieces on the floor. Five more zombies stumbled in.
"Shit!" Dusty exclaimed, turning to Gus. They both were at the bottom of the staircase now.
"New plan old man," Dusty said, speaking rapidly. "Stay alert, stay alive. We're going out the front door and fighting our way straight through the field and to the road. Time for quiet has passed, get your gun ready. Let's move double time!"
Dusty recovered his knife and put it back in its sheath. He pulled his pistol and burst out the front door, into the growing darkness. Gus did the same with his hatchet and pulled the rifle he had slung over his shoulder. He followed as best he could, trying to keep up with Dusty's pace.
If I get eaten by a zombie, I at least hope it used to be a beautiful, big titty one.
Dusty ran and popped, the harsh sounds of his pistol filled the air. Gus did his best to help, taking out a few at long range with his rifle.
"This is not working, more just keep coming," Dusty shouted over his shoulder. "Let's try to cut through the barn and make a run for it. No more shooting from here on out, except as a last resort."
Dusty holstered his pistol and pulled his knife. Gus slung his rifle and said a quick prayer. They ran for the dilapidated red barn to their right. Dusty threw a shoulder block at a fat zombie as it stepped into their path. It went sprawling. Gus couldn't help but slow and stare as he passed it. It laid on its back, its arms flailing, its mouth working open and close. No sound came out of it. It was like watching a baby have a quiet tempertantrum.
That might be the most disturbing thing I have seen yet.
Dusty burst through the barn door. Gus struggled to catch up. The barn was pitch dark inside. It reeked of decay. The smell of old horse shit was overpowering. Gus was happy he didn't have to see what he was smelling. Dusty didn't hesitate, he raced on. Gus plunged into the darkness after him.
"Wait," Gus hissed. He slowed, not knowing if he could make it to the other side of the barn. He stopped and bent over with his hands on his knees, trying to catch his breath. He hoped that thudding in his chest wasn't a heart attack. He had a feeling there would be no ambulance for him if he keeled over.
"Come on," s
aid Dusty, invisible in the dark.
Gus jumped when Dusty grab his arm. Dusty pulled him onward. The two lurched along. They crashed out the other side of the barn. Dusty pulled him down to a crouch behind some bushes. The sun was setting, making everything shimmer with an orange haze.
Dusty dropped Gus's knapsack and rummaged through it until finding the binoculars. He looked through them, panning them around the entire area but the dim light was making it hard to see any detail.
"Best I can tell, it looks clear ahead," Dusty whispered to Gus. He turned, suddenly looking concerned. "You okay old timer? We're going to have to keep moving."
Gus attempted to answer but couldn't manage to speak through his gasps of air. He felt like a fish flopping on a river bank. So he just pointed at Dusty and gave him a thumbs up and a wave.
They walked on, the rising full moon now lighting their way.
What are the odds? Hannah thought to herself, trying to keep herself optimistic. The whole world is falling apart and not only am I lucky enough to still be alive and my best friend is here with me. She had to believe her Mom, and Ashley's Mom, were alive and doing well. Not only are we still alive, we ran into another survivor already. That has to be a miracle. Thank you Lord.
Sitting in the passenger seat, she tried not to be too obvious as she looked him over. From the time he saved them both and picked them up, he had been nothing but nice to them. She thanked God that she had gotten away from the zombies.
Zombies...still can't get over it.
He willingly shared his food and water with them. He even went as far as checking out bathrooms for them, making sure they were zombie free, so they didn't have to squat on the side of the road.
A real gentleman, she laughed to herself.
She knew there was nothing to laugh about with everything going on.
The feeling of attraction growing in her the last few hours must be a defense mechanismas well. How could she possibly even think about things like that, the situation being what it was? Besides, she didn't even really know the guy. Yeah, they had lots of conversations as the days wore on, but really they were still strangers. Maybe it was shock.
