Tomahawks & Zombies

by Joe Beausoleil

  The Dreadfuls had radioed in, twenty miles from Wounded Knee. There was a farmhouse surrounded by the undead. They saw movement in the house, survivors, but with too many of the undead laying siege, they decided to call in a section of Twice Shys to help out. They usually liked to handle things themselves, so it must be serious. Ours and another section led our horses in the trailers, leaving space in hopes of salvaging something. We piled into the trucks and drove off.

  A handful of Dreadfuls, wearing their colours and looking like Vikings, met us on the road. They explained that while on a foraging run they found a farm with about thirty to forty undead surrounding it. The place was boarded up, but the undead were starting to pry the boards lose. They described them clawing at the boards, their fingernails peeling and snapping off in their frenzy to get in. Pain didn’t matter to them, what mattered was the food inside. There were too many of the undead for the bikers to take on their own, so they decided to call for back up. Not even bikers are too proud to ask for help when it concerns the undead. A plan was quickly formed and with my heart pounding in my chest it was time for action. A group of eight of us mounted up and sticking to the tree line made it unnoticed behind the farm. I leaned in close, patting my horse on the neck while we waited.

  Revving their engines, the Dreadfuls drove around the farmhouse attracting the undead. They circled around before riding back, the undead stopped pounding on the farm door, and left the porch following the bikers. Riding eight abreast, we urged our horses forward, coming up behind the undead. The thunder of our charging horses was dwarfed by the retreating bikers. When the Dreadfuls pulled too far away from the zombies, they would slow down revving their engines keeping the undead entranced, close but not too close. Distracted by the bikers, the undead never heard us ride up on them. In order not to hit the bikers we were forced to use close combat weapons until we rode through. One with an awkwardly twisted leg was trailing the main group. I leaned to the side, bringing my tomahawk high above my head, swinging it down as I passed it. I swung and missed. The momentum nearly threw me over. I recover in time to take aim at the next one, hitting it with a wet thud in the back of its head. Just managing to look over my shoulder in time to watch it drop and then trampled by Eve. The other Twice Shys were busy; yelling war cries, swinging their machetes, war clubs and swords as we road through the group. Zombies fell from blows to the head or were trampled under our horses’ hooves. Once in their midst, we spurred our horses even faster breaking through, leaving the undead in our wake before they could pull us off. As planned we rode between the trucks parked along the road. I tripped getting off my mount rolling to a stop where Eve lent me a hand helping me back to my feet. We rushed to join our friends who were using the trucks as a firing line. Two sections of Twice Shys, Mitch’s Young Dogs and half a dozen bikers stood shoulder to shoulder as we raised our rifles. Within minutes the undead were dispatched. I was so excited I don’t know if I even fired my gun.

  When the last one fell we pushed their rotting bodies into the ditch, splashed them with diesel fuel and lit them on fire. You have to melt a Windigo’s heart to make sure it’s truly dead.

  The warriors gathered at the farm house, but the family inside was still too scared to come out. A man in his late thirties yelled down to us from a second story window. We told him about the “All Nations” and invited those inside to join us. The farmer didn’t want to stay with “a bunch of damn dirty Indians” telling us to leave his property, that he was doing fine on his own and he didn’t need any help. Apparently he forgot about the horde of undead that nearly broke down his door an hours ago. Well, that’s gratitude for you.

  We took both his horses and three of his ten cows, all of which were starving, leaving everything else. Mitch called up that if he didn’t like it he could come down to discuss the matter or if he rather be surrounded by the undead, we could arrange that. I wouldn’t unleash the undead on my worst enemy. As we left, Eve told the farmer that the Dreadfuls would return from time to time to check on their safety and at any time they wanted to stay with us they were welcome to it.

  As a rule the All Nations take any horses we find. Gas will run out soon enough and horses are quieter than an engine. We don’t steal people’s food, taking one-third of what we salvage. We have more people to feed and have a stockade with enough hay to look after the animals. When most people abandoned their homes, they left their livestock to fend for themselves. Many left their pets as well, now there are feral cats and packs of wild dogs roaming the cities and countryside, added danger for those still out there.

  March 15

  Ambroise spotted them in the distance. My high school French told me he was yelling about someone approaching. We scrambled into position and waited. The UPS delivery van stopped as we had our guns trained on it. The van had a line of bullet holes along the side, the paint peeling off around the bullets holes. It was full of natives who said they escaped from a medical facility. They were a mixture of those “rescued” by the army early on and those picked up and captured at roadblocks or raids. The infection got out of hand, spread through the facility and in the chaos they escaped. They said they were heading north. Anywhere north. They were a ragtag group, looking underfed and exhausted, more than one was missing their left arm. We gave them directions to camp, radio in and waited to see if they were followed.

  They weren’t.

  That was the only excitement for the day. One more day out on patrol before we can head back.

  March 16

  It was a miserable windy day when we spotted an abandoned tractor trailer in the ditch. A salvage crew was needed so Eve and I left the others, who were trying to pry open the back, so we could radio in. We rode for a few minutes but the radio still was just static. Eve went to higher ground to get better reception leaving me alone. I retreated down a coulee to get out of the wind.

  Round The Sky was antsy. I patted her mane to calm her, as usual she turned to nip at my hand. I was quicker. Her jaw closed on thin air. Still agitated, her ears twitched, snorted and she began to danced in a circle. I pulled the reins trying to control her; suddenly she reared her head high, eyes wide with panic. She sensed the undead before it burst out of the bush. I did not. Round The Sky crow hopped as I held on. Rearing on her hind legs, her front hooves kicking at the air, I lost my grip and fell backward. The wind was knocked out of me as I hit the ground hard. Laying flat on my back I saw the undead for the first time. It towered over me upside down from my point of view. As it reached out for me my horse bolted, my foot was stuck in the stirrup, dragging me along the hard snow. I bounced along, the world revolving view of; blue sky, white snow, grey horse, undead running behind, back to the blue sky, white snow, grey horse, undead now further behind. All the while dirt and snow and gold dry grass was kicked in my face as I bounced along the snow. More clamored through the bush into the clearing.

  The world stopped.

  I lay on my stomach watching Round The Sky disappear into the trees. I scrambled onto my hands and knees still winded. The zombie grabbed my foot. I was pulled backward in the snow, my hands digging in trying to pull myself away buy only managing to leave long claw marks. I rolled onto my back kicking. Its head snapped back. Its grip on my leg held, it felt colder than the snow. Behind it more were spilling out of the woods rushing my way. I saw my socks were mismatched. I saw its teeth closing in. I saw it had a gold tooth. I kicked again. My hard kick was rewarded with a sickening crunch as I flattened its nose. Cartilage broke, dark green sludge flowed out of its nostrils as it fell backwards, revealing the crowd just steps away. I scrambled to my knees. Flatnose sat up so I hit it with my goalie blocker over and over. I pulled my tomahawk from my belt and brought it down hard. It did not get back up. With some effort I managed to stand. Hands braced on my knees, bent over I tried to get my breath back. My body ached. My head spun. I was alone and the zombies were closing in. I readied myself for a last stand, picking out which one to swing at first. A ugly one with blood mat
ted long blonde hair and half a cheek missing would be my first target, a short ugly one with an eye dangling out of its socket would be my next, after that it was first come first served.

  Suddenly the bodies of the zombies went flying. Necks snapped back by the force, arms and legs floundering in the air as Eve crashed into them from behind. Stunned and covered in snow, they got back up. Eve slowed to a trot extending her hand pulling me on her horse behind her. Her hair had that familiar smell of smoke and flowers. Riding double she spurred her horse on, trying to get contact the base on her radio. We quickly put distance between us and the mob. Her horse was near exhaustion lathered in sweat when I hopped off. My legs gave out falling to my knees. The radio crackled to life as I lay in the snow. Loaded up with frozen TV dinners, the rest of the patrol met up with us. At least I found out what was in the trailer. They were forced to abandon the find, due to another horde of the undead.

  Other patrols were reporting similar scenes, large numbers of undead in the area. Riding double we made it back to base as my body started to feel the pain of being drug behind a horse. My shoulders and lower back ached. As sore as I was, I was better off than the patrol that didn’t return. They did not report back. We never heard from them.

  I hugged Eve extra tight. I was happy to be alive and didn’t know if I’d get to hug a pretty girl again.

  “You saved my life today,” I said as I slipped off her horse.

  “Tomorrow it could be your turn to save mine,” She reached into her saddle bag tossing me an apple. She looked up at the corral nodding towards Round The Sky, who had already found her way back. She was casually drinking from a trough.

  “She saved you just long enough for me to come around.” I guess she did. Holding the apple in my palm I waited for Round The Sky to bite me. Instead she took the apple while I checked her for injury. She was fine.

  The other squads of Twice Shys, Home Guards and Young Dogs who weren’t on patrol were ordered to report in. Increased numbers of undead were reported to the south and the east. The patrols out there noted the numbers before quickly retreating to the All Nations. Some, like my patrol, had contact but broke free. When patrol never reported in Eve volunteered our squad to search for them. Mitch’s Young Dogs and a squad of Home Guards also volunteered. We knew their general route and where they last reported in. We ride in the hour. Enough time for me to take a few pain pills for my stiff muscles. As usual, Round The Sky didn’t want to wear her saddle, it took a handful of sugar cubes to keep her still. Fussy as she is, I’m getting good at putting the tack on.

  Twenty of us rode off, with Mitch leading the way and Rollie and I trailing, leading a couple pack horses. Scouts were sent out as Mitch and Eve studied the map. The last report from the lost squad was from a farm house nearby. The rest of us took the chance to sit and eat whatever we’ve brought with us. We had been riding for three hours. I was used to that by now. The scouts returned a few minutes ago. We ride in five minutes, just enough time to finish my sandwich and take a quick nervous pee.

  The scouts led us close. We dismounted, creeping up to the edge of a gulley. We found the patrol. I was expecting to find their bodies torn apart by the undead instead we found them tied up, and blind folded by a group of soldiers. I recognized one of the prisoners he was one of the guys manning the barricade when I first arrived. His name was Gill and he was always quick with a joke. A soldier was keeping an eye on them, another was sitting legs dangling out of a Humvee, radio head set to his ear, the rest were gathered around a tank. The tank tread lay trailing behind the green hulking mass of metal like spilled intestines. As they were following a rocky river bank, a section of tread popped off on a large boulder. They were stranded and we had the high ground.

  To flank the unsuspecting soldiers, we broke into two groups. We lay on the cold ground, heads peeking out between the gold tall grass poking through the snow, the word was to move on “the signal”.

  “What the hell is the signal to attack?” I whispered to Rollie, the waiting fraying my nerves.

  “No idea.”

  “It better be soon.”

  “Trust me we’ll know it when it happens.”

  What seemed like hours went by. Rollie looks over at me and sees how nervous I’m getting.

  “Relax Jake, we are only about to fight a better armed and trained bunch of psychos that only want to capture and do all sorts of fucked up experiments on you. What’s the worst that can happen?”

  His grin didn’t do anything to help calm me. Down below the prisoners look fine enough, they weren’t beat up or bloody, not too badly anyways. Their hands were fastened behind their back with plastic zip ties as they knelt on the river bank. The soldiers milled around the tank, one of them had an oversized wrench which he pointed at the tank treads with frustration. The other soldiers were standing around uselessly, one drinking a beer; another had his finger buried in his nose.

  I scanned the opposite side of the ravine. Peering carefully, I could make out one of Mitch’s group.

  Any second now.

  Below one soldier climbed up and got in the tank as the guy with the wrench threw it down and grabbed a beer. The Humvee had a big loud speaker mounted to the roof. The soldier in the Humvee was still twisting dials on the radio when his hands suddenly went to his eyes. Birds huddled in the bush flew off scattering as he screamed. The other soldiers turned their heads at their screaming friend.

  “I’m blind! I’m blind!”

  Rollie slapped me on the back “That’s the signal.”

  Rifles leveled, we rushed out and charged down the hill. Rollie slide on his ass and some Young Dog fell, rolling past us. The guard’s eyes went wide when he saw us, fumbling with his rifle; it clattered on the rocks after he dropped it. One of the prisoners tripped up the stunned soldier. In the midst of the chaos of rushing men, the radio man staggered blindly, his arms out stretched in front of him. A Young Dog threw a shoulder, body checking the blind man, sending him crashing into the Humvee’s open door.

  Another soldier dropped his beer as he went for his gun. Someone opened fire. Bullets ricocheted of the tank causing the rest of the men to scatter. He scrambled up, scurrying into the tank. Ambroise climbed up right behind the soldier just as the hatch is slammed shut. He shook his hand in pain sucking on a pinched finger.

  For the first time, I saw Mitch as he rounded the tank bringing the phasr up, my phasr (the bastard stole it). He fired its invisible beam at the soldier with the rifle. The strange look of the space gun caused the soldier hesitate half a second. That was all Mitch needed. He hit the mark as the soldier’s eyes got big, a look of horror on his face.

  “I can’t see. I can’t fuckin see!” he cried spinning around with his rifle pointing.

  People from both sides ducked for cover as he started to fire. Bullets pinged along the Humvee; other shots went high in the air. Ambroise jumped off the tank tackling the terrified, newly blinded soldier. They tumbled on the ground with the big Mohawk ending up on top.

  The turbine engine of the M1 tank roared to life. The tank tried to shift into gear but with one tread off it only managed to spin a few degrees sinking into the river bank. The driver reversed trying the other direction with the same result. The tank stopped struggling for a few seconds then with an electric whirl as the turret started to turn, the barrel sweeping towards us. Grabbing a fist-sized rock, Eve ran up and like a basketball player slam dunked the rock in the barrel. I could hear it clank down until it wedged itself deep inside. I’m not sure if it would cause the barrel to peel open like a banana is they fired or if that was just in cartoons. Those inside must have thought the same thing as they stopped moving altogether. This gave everyone a chance to follow suit, rocks tumbled down the barrel.

  Our prisoners were cut loose. Gill rubbing the red lines cut into his wrists.

  “Boy, are we glad to see you. These pricks were going to take us to some medical outpost for experiments. Isn’t that right junior.”

  H
e slapped the helmet off a gruff looking soldier, the nose picker.

  Mitch grabbed the nose picker’s cheeks, “Well, isn’t that right?”

  Nose Picker answered with a slow nod.

  The two soldiers Mitch blinded with the laser were still distraught, tears frozen on their cheeks, Rollie prodded and kicked them to line them up with the other captured soldiers. A few of the stubborn ones had to be kicked behind the knees to get them to kneel in front of the tank. Altogether we had captured seven of them, plus the one or two in the tank. No one was killed on either side.

  With our men free and theirs tied up it was a standoff between us and those locked in the tank. We had no way to get them out. They were locked in tight but the tank was crippled. They couldn’t radio for help as Gill had ripped off the tank’s radio antenna which he used whipped a few of the soldiers that seemed to be trouble or looked at him funny.

  “That’s for tying me up,” Swish as the antenna cut through the air before hitting a ginger haired soldier across his ass.

  “And that’s for shooting my horse,” Swish again on the butt. The soldier cried out. I winced. That one had to hurt.

  A couple Young Dogs were talking.

  “We can’t wait here for them to come out. When they don’t report in, they’ll send help.”

  “A helicopter could be on the way right now.”

  “Yeah right,” snickered a prisoner.

  “What’s that mean?”

  “The air force is shit. Disbanded. We took what was left of the jet fuel for our tanks and a few choppers. Hell this one doesn’t even have enough to get back to the rendezvous,” he said nodding to the disabled tank.

  “Shut up,” the ginger haired soldier yelled. Someone kicked him and he shut up.

  He ignored his friend, “Screw you Jeb. Army hell, the 7th Calvary that’s trying to solve all the problems, fight the zombies and find the cure pulsing through your veins.”