by Thomas Baker
"Dusty, what if he is right? I've made it this far. I would hate to become one of the items on an all you can eat zombie buffet," Gus said.
Dusty glared hard at Gus. Then he turned to Harold.
"Fine, fucking fine. What's your plan man?" Dusty was not happy.
"Harold."
"OK, Harold." Dusty spit out.
"Get the rest of your group in here and let me look at the one that's limping. See if there is anything I can do. Quick, we won't have much time." Harold feltvery antsy standing still and waiting on them. He was just about to leave them all and go back home if they didn't hurry it up.
"Wait, a damn second...." Dusty started. Harold cut him off with a look.
"It's now or never," continued Harold, "I have a cabin up on the ridge on the other side of the highway. It's safe."
"Gus, you go back and get the rest. I will stay here with our new friend Harold," Dusty said. His face suggested they would be anything but friends.
"I will not wait much longer," Harold stressed.
When Gus left, Harold hunkered down, looking at the forest floor. Dusty continued to watch him with suspicious eyes. Harold didn't care.
Harold was just about ready to leave, thinking hescared the group off, when they all came into the clearing.
"You're going to help us?" asked one of them. He was a big guy, looked like he could have been a football player back in the normal world.
"I am," said Harold, "if you'll do what I say. Exactly what I say."
"Gus said you would look at my ankle?" asked the limping woman.
"I wanted to, but I don't think we'll have the time now because of your tardiness. We will have to make our way back across as best we can. I have a place-"
"Is it Safe Haven?" The other woman interrupted.
Harold froze for a second, caught off guard by her comments. He took precious moments to recover.
"It's a cabin, across the highway and up the bluff. Think you can carry your wounded friend fireman style, big man? If it comes to that?" Harold said, his heart now beating twice its normal pace.
"Sure. By the way, I'm JT."
"Follow me, be as quiet as possible, and I will get you out of this alive."
Harold turned and started back the way he came, not giving a second glance if they were following him.
Harold set a slower, more deliberate pace and still the group made too much noise for his liking. He heard a rustle and a crack of breaking branches. It wasn't from behind him. That was his only warning before a body slammed into him.
Harold kept the attacker's momentum rolled with the body, landing on top. The zombie empty face looked up at him. Harold jumped up to his feet and fired a silent shot into its head. It was all over before anyone from the group could reach him.
"What the hell?" Dusty said.
"Outlier. Doesn't happen much from what I've seen. Means the pack is not far behind though. Let's move a little faster." Harold was thankful he had equipped his silencer before leaving the cabin. A gunshot would have brought the horde down on them for sure. Runners would be death.
Harold quickened the pace. He heard more crashing and cracking from his right than he did from the group behind him. His heart beat a little faster still.
He then saw something flash out of the corner of his eye. He jerked up his rifle, got it in his sights, and fired. He ran to the deer he just dropped, pulling out his knife as he approached it. The group caught up to him as he was slicing the deer wide open, scattering its entrails around.
"Um, what's he doing?" he heard one woman say.
"Creating a diversion, I hope. Don't you hear that?" Harold said.
The sound of snapping and breaking wood was practically on top of them.
"Run," Harold said voice calm.
The group broke into a chaotic scramble. Harold easily stayed in the lead, shouting commands over his shoulder. The time to be quiet was over.
It sounded as if the whole forest had come alive and was coming to kill them. Harold imagined this is what it would sound like if he was being chased by Ents from Lord of the Rings. Harold turned and ran backwards, surveying the scene. He didn't think the deer would slow the zombies down much. As if to prove Harold's point, two zombie's burst through the underbrush, silent as shadows. They were making a beeline straight to the old man, Gus.
He took one out with a perfectly placed bullet in the head. It dropped like a rock. The other zombie lunged and had his head blown apart. It was another man from the group Harold hadn't met yet. The strange man had his lips drawn back in a snarl and his eyes darted all over the forest, as if daring more zombies to appear.
"Let's go. This is not the place to make a stand. We could be surrounded to easily," Harold said, "If there are no more quick ones, we should be able to make it to the other side of the highway."
Harold turned and took off once more. Periodically he would turn, scanning the woods to make sure no more zombies had burst out behind them. The sounds of pursuit became fainter. Harold thought he would at least make it back to the highway alive.
They came out into the open space of grass next to the highway. Harold didn't let up on the pace and raced across the black asphalt. He was crossing the white dividing line when he signaled to Thomas on the other side. He pointed up in the air with his index finger and twirled it twice. They were coming in hot.
Harold got to the other side of the highway. He stopped in the tall grass and dropped to one knee. He looked through the scope, taking everything in. Most of the people following him had made it onto the highway. Gus and JT, with the girl on his back, were trailing badly. They had just made it out of the woods.
"When you start seeing the dead, open fire," Harold called up to Thomas, who was behind some rocks, on the hill above him.
Everyone but Gus, JT, and the wounded girl had crossed the highway. Harold motioned the people to go up and join Thomas on the rocks above.
"Ashley has to make it across, okay?" The other woman in the group pleaded with him. Then the black kid grabbed her hand and pulled her along.
Harold said nothing. He just went back to watching the stragglers. They had made it to the shoulder of the road. Behind them the zombies poured out of the woods.
Harold fired one place shot after another, taking his time. His heartbeat had dropped and now remained as steady as his hand. Above him he heard Thomas open fire. The dead dropped at a faster rate. Harold concentrated, using well-placed shots to take out any zombies that came too close to JT, Ashley, and Gus.
The three made it across. JT collapsed on the ground next to Harold, gasping for breath. Ashley half fell, half rolled off his back. Gus doubled over, hands on his knees. Now that the road was clear of the living, it made it a lot easier to take out the rest of the dead. Others from the group he had rescued startedshooting too.
The firing stopped as the tide of undead ended. Piles of bodies laid this way and that on the road and in the grass. Harold's ears were ringing from the gunfire.
Harold jumped up on the outcrop and stood next to Thomas. He scanned the area with his binoculars, just to make sure it was clear. Nothing moved in the tangle of bodies. After a few minutes, he came back down.
"Let's go back..." Harold started, when the strange man with the wild eyes pushed past him. He went out onto the road and proceeded to violently bash in the heads of every corpse with a crowbar.
Harold turned, looking at JT, one eyebrow raised.
"That's Alan. It's better to not even ask," JT said between whooping breaths. "He might be out there for a while."
"Come on Ashley." JT put one arm around the wounded woman's shoulder. The other woman in the group came over to help. "Lead on."
Harold proceeded up the bluff. The shell-shocked travelers followed.
Harold led them alongside the dirt road to his cabin. On the way, he got an overview of who everyone was and what had happened to them in the last few days from JT. It seemed to Harold that JT was the de facto leader.
Harold said nothing, hoping JT would drop the gratitude. It made him feel uncomfortable inside. He wasn't even sure why he had saved them. It was just a spur-of-the-moment decision, a gut feeling he had. When he looked over at Ashley and Hannah, he was sure he made the right choice. They were both beautiful.
"I left Thomas behind to guide your friend Alan up," Harold stopped, speaking a little louder so everyone could hear him. "In a few minutes we will be up to my property line. You will all have to follow my directions precisely. I've placed many traps around my cabin, to keep it zombie free."
Harold could feel his cheeks getting warm as he addressed them. He couldn't even remember the last time he was so close to so many people. To him they might as well have been a crowd of a hundred.
"That sounds insane. We're going to trust this guy, follow him to who knows what?" Dusty said, as he glared in Harold's direction. Harold was prettysure he meant to say that loudly enough so he would hear it.
The group huddled closer together. Harold backed away to put some space between him and the group. Harold could see some intense discussion was going on, especially between JT and Dusty. He made the call that JT was the leader, but it looked to him like Dusty wanted to be. They broke apart. It was clear not all of them were happy. JT walked the few short steps to Harold to announce their decision.
"We're ready to go on."
Harold joined Mike at the perimeter. Mike raised an eyebrow and Harold stopped long enough to let them all make introductions. He wasn't happy about it. Impatiently he waved them on to follow him. Harold led them to do as he directed, following the complex pattern he had laid out. After a few hundred yards they were through.
They arrived at the cabin without incident. Harold walked up onto the porch and opened the front door. He motioned to JT.
"After you're inside, lay your hurt friend on the couch. Go down that hallway and you will find a closet. Grab a blanket and two pillows and bring themto me," Harold instructed JT.
"It hurts so bad," whined Ashley as JT and Tyrone sat her down. She sharply inhaled as her body hit the couch.
"Knock it off already Ashley, we know, we know. Can't you just be grateful we got here and shut up for one minute?" Dusty said. Harold saw JT shoot a nasty look at Dusty, his lips became a thin line.
"Now, your foot. Let me have a look at it," Harold said, peeling off her shoe and sock.
He felt nervous, his hands were shaking a little as he caressed her ankle. She was so beautiful and young. He took a few deep breaths to calm himself. He tried not to let it show that she was making him nervous.
"What do you want me to do with these?" JT asked, holding up the pillows and blanket.
"Ah yes," Harold said in a distracted voice. "One pillow goes under her head, the other under her injured foot. Then the blanket goes over her."
He continued to examine her injury as JT got everything into place. Her skin was so smooth and inviting, except for the purple bruise on the top.
"Ashley, right? You have a sprained ankle. It's severe. I'm sure you are in pain. Let's try putting some ice on it, keep it elevated, and we can see if it is better in a day or two. Then I may be able tomassage it, to increase the speed of recovery."
Ashley grimaced.
"No signs of any infection or bite marks we missed?" JT asked, hesitantly.
"No." Harold replied. Everyone looked obviouslyrelieved.
"Wait," Gus interrupted, sounding amazed. "You have ice?"
"Yes. I have a generator out back. I have been able to maintain my property and be self sufficient at the same level as before...this." Harold flapped a hand around.
"Well, I'll be damned. You sure dohave lights and the whole nine yards don't ya?" Gus said, looking around like a bright-eyed kid in a toy store, a goofy grin on his face "Guess I was too bamboozled to notice at first. Well hot damn, it's going to be like we traveled back in time tonight. Roof, lights, ice. You have hot water too, mister?"
"It's Harold. I have well water, which I usually heat outside over a fire, so I guess the answer is yes."
"Fuck me, this setup sounds better than poking a pair of red-headed twins," Gus cackled. Hannah made a face at Gus.
Harold cringed, but kept silent. He was too tired to get into any arguments tonight. Tomorrow there would be time for the rules.
"We're back to the real for real," Tyrone said.
The front door creaked open. Thomas and Alan came in, covered in gore. Thomas trailed behind him, looking disgusted. Alan looked exhausted, yet strangely satisfied at the same time.
"Alan, I got good news for you, buddy," Gus said, "We can get you some hot water."
"No shit? Where do I sign up?" Alan said, brightening.
"Alan. Don't bring that filth into my home. Can you wait out on the front porch while we get things squared away?" Harold snapped.
"Like I always told my daughters, would a please hurt you?" Alan said, begrudgingly heading back out the door.
"I'm just glad we got back," Thomas said.
"Speaking of getting things squared away Harold, what's the plan? What's the layout here? Unless this place is a lot bigger than it looked from the outside where are we all going to stay?" Dusty started in.
Harold held up his hand as a reply. He paced around the room, thinking. Moments later he spoke.
"I have a spare bedroom across from mine. Thomas has been staying in it, but I'm sure he wouldn't mind giving it up. The women can stay in there. The rest of you can push the furniture back out of the way and stay on the floor, until I can think of something better. Thomas and Mike have been here for a while, they can help you out with where things are."
"I'm getting kicked out of the bedroom?" Thomas complained. "I can't believe-"
A look from Harold stopped him mid-sentence.
"Now, if you all will excuse me. It's already been a long day. I'll leave all of you to sort it out."
Harold went out the door. He pointed out to Alan the well around the side and sent him on his way. He sat out on his front porch, settling into his favorite chair. He had never had that many people in his cabin before. It was a little too much for him. Out here though, it still felt quiet and peaceful.
Why did you save them? A part of him spoke up as he sat in the darkness. He really didn't have an answer for that voice. He had acted spontaneously, which he kept telling himself he shouldn't do. It seemed to happen repeatedly regardless of the promises he made himself. He was nothing but a methodical planner when it came to taking care of the cabin. His opinion was if you didn't make a good plan and follow it, you were just asking for bad things to happen to you.
He kept scanning the road and the forest, half suspecting more zombies to come out and charge the cabin. Stop being ridiculous. That phrase, one of his mother's, came to his mind. The chances of him being taken by surprise by anyone, zombie or not, was slim. Still, he found it hard to relax. It must have been his nerves, he had never had this many people at his cabin. Or maybe it was the voice inside his head. Send them on their way, the sooner the better, the voice spoke up again. Usually he would only have that kind of voice in his head, speaking to him, after going into town. Could the government's machines still be running? He considered it was possible, that they could have battery backups and automatic settings to keep them running for months without human control. Maybe even solar panels. They could be out there on the highway making their broadcasts right now. It made him feel sick to his stomach.
Harold stayed out front as the quarter moon rose higher. The crickets came out and chirped their lullaby. When his chin touched his chest, he decided it was time to go in.
Back inside, he saw the sprawled out men across his living room. They were all fast asleep. He headed to his room. He reached for the door handle, then stopped. He opened the door to the spare
bedroom instead. He stood watching, as silent as the dead, as Ashley and Hannah sleep. Several minutes passed before he turned, closing the door behind him, feeling aroused and rigid.
Alan awoke. He popped up to a sitting position. Looking around, he saw that he was the first up. He stretched and carefully made his way out of the living room. Even though his right arm was sore from exertion, he still felt the most normal he had since, as JT had put it, "the shit got real." He didn't know if it was because of spending the night in a real house again or that he was cleaner than he had been in weeks. He went into the kitchen and poked around. His stomach felt like a hole had formed inside.
Harold shuffled in, rubbing his temples. "I have a migraine. Alan, right? Tell the rest they can help themselves to whatever they want. I'll be staying in my room for a while."
Alan thought he looked pale. Hope it's just a headache and not something contagious.
The rest of the living room crew stirred around. Ashley and Hannah joined them, coming out from their bedroom. They came out into the living room with their hair sticking up in crazy directions. Alan chuckled to himself, as a bittersweet memory of his girls passed through his mind.
"Hey there, Al," Gus said, joining him in the kitchen. "Why don't you let me give you a hand? I'm so hungry I could eat the southbound side of a northbound cow."
"Sure," Alan said shaking his head at Gus's saying. "Harold came out here and said we can help ourselves."
"Well in that case, let me whip up a little something."
Gus surprised them all with how delicious his hot breakfast was. It was their first warm, complete meal in weeks.
"Unbelievable that I would find eggs, let alone some honest to goodness artery clogging bacon," Gus said, between mouthfuls.
Alan had to admit, it was the best breakfast he had eaten since the last one his wife had made him. He abruptly put the brakes on that train of thought.
"'Cause it's all in my head. I think about it. Over and over again," Tyrone serenaded, as he washed up the dirty dishes afterwards. He had charged his iPod overnight and was listening to it now with one headphone in. Ashley giggled as she dried the dishes and put them away.
