by David Bourne
Jenna smiled and thanked them as she climbed into the van. Scott introduced the other passengers and drove into the entrance leading to the farm. Jenna scratched Watson behind the ears for a moment, but then preferred to keep her hands to herself.
“By the way, Jenna, where did you find this baseball bat with nails in it?” Phil asked.
“Toby grabbed it at a gas station and threw it into the trunk. Why?” Jenna replied and seemed slightly unsettled by the question.
“Just out of curiosity,” Phil reassured her.
They reached the farm after a short drive down the road leading to it. It was large, consisting of a main building, two smaller structures and a huge stable. Right in front of it stood a red Chevy parked next to a stone well. A length of clothes line was tied to the hitch, with some empty cans attached to it. On the rear windshield there were large letters scrawled in white shoe polish that read “Just Married.” In the front yard there was a gruesome scene of several corpses lying around; some of them had turned black, and the network of veins on their faces was visible. Ray, Phil and Chris felt uncomfortable, while Scott seemed to be unfazed by this.
“The windows of the Chevy are fogged up. I hope Toby’s still breathing,” Jenna said.
Scott and Phil saw a man’s body slumped in the driver’s seat. “Get out and help me carry him into the house,” Scott instructed the others.
They opened the van doors and Watson jumped out. He and began barking loudly.
“Quiet!” Ray ordered, and Watson obeyed him.
“Kids, stay in the van with Uncle Chris and watch over him, okay?” Phil seemed worried. Ray knelt down to one of the dead, with his machete in his hand, while Scott and Jenna walked toward the car to check on Toby.
Scott opened the door and saw a thirtyish, slim man slumped in the seat. His left hand rested on his chest, while his right hung by his side. He wore blue jeans and a black hoodie with the logo of the band Machine Head across the front of it. His hair was long and black. Scott bent down into the car to pick him up.
“Phil, all of these monsters have been shot,” Ray whispered.
“Maybe the Army boys did that, Ray,” Phil whispered back.
Scott was halfway into the vehicle now. He was trying to feel the man’s pulse, when suddenly the man opened his eyes. Scott was so startled that he banged his head hard against the headliner and fell backward out of the car. Scott Gerber sat on the sandy soil and found himself looking into the barrel of a Beretta pistol. The man swiftly got out of the car and aimed his pistol at Scott’s head.
“Hi, sunshine. I’m Toby Lewis.”
Watson started barking wildly at Toby. Ray looked for Jenna, but she was nowhere to be found. Instead, the shutters of several windows on the main building swung open, and four rifle barrels appeared.
“What...what’s this supposed to mean?” Scott stammered.
“Well, let me explain it to you,” said a sonorous voice with a slight British accent.
A man in his fifties, with a wiry build, stepped out of the main door. He looked well-groomed, appeared freshly shaven and had his grey hair combed backward. His most noticeable feature was a gray vest sporting a gold pocket watch.
“My name is Richard Fuller, and to put it succinctly, I will rob you.”
Watson growled and flattened his ears.
“It would be nice if you could silence your dog, or I will have it shot, gentlemen. That would be very sad, right in front of the children, don’t you think?” He waved at Fiona and Robbie, who smiled and waved back at him.
“WATSON, STOP!” Ray yelled. Luckily, the dog understood the command and obediently sat down.
“What the hell do you want from us?” Ray interjected.
“To be precise, everything you have, except for your clothing.”
“We’re on our way to Fort Weeks. We can share with you and go there together.”
Richard Fuller cleared his throat. “Well, that is very noble of you, Mister…?”
“Thompson. Raymond Thompson.”
“It is nice to meet you, Mister Thompson, but why should I share something that I already own? We are not interested in going to Fort Weeks. We have a different goal, and in order to reach it, we would like to have you vehicle and your possessions.”
“Listen, Mister Fuller. You appear to be a reasonable person. We have two little kids and an injured man with us. We won’t make it, if you take our van and our stuff.” Phil looked nervously into the vehicle.
“Well, I understand,” Fuller replied. Phil uttered a gasp of relief.
“Leave the three of them here and follow me, then you can keep your possessions and your vehicle.”
“Are you out of your fucking mind?” Scott yelled angrily. He was still sitting on the ground, but now he started to get up.
“Stay down.” Fuller’s voice suddenly took on an unmistakably aggressive tone. Scott sat down again. Then Fuller continued in his polite, soft voice.
“That is the point of it. I am completely sane. Therefore I know that you will neither give up your injured friend, nor the two children. This is obviously your Achilles’ heel. However, I have no interest in caring for children or injured people I don’t know. This means that if I want to have your things, I will have to take them by force.”
He briefly nodded toward his marksmen at the windows. “I think I have explained enough now. Don’t try any tricks when you get the others out of the van, otherwise you will end up lying next to the corpses here. Not exactly a nice final resting place. And don’t try to reason with me. That is useless. I have heard it all several times over, believe me. If you do exactly as I say, you will at least keep your lives. Now get started.”
Phil wanted to say something to Fuller, but then he saw that all the guns were being aimed at him. He raised his hands and kept silent. Scott stumbled to his feet and gave Richard Fuller a look full of hatred. Ray watched both of them.
“Just leave it be, guys. We have too much to lose.” He glanced nervously at the children.
Toby was whistling a song, while his men started to get Chris and the children out of the van. Then they stowed their weapons there. The tasks were completed after only a few minutes. One by one the guns disappeared from the window, and three men and a woman entered the front yard. Jenna drove a flatbed pickup truck out of the stable and stopped it next to the van.
Ray’s group was now directly facing Richard Fuller’s people. Toby was still whistling. Now Scott lost his self-control.
“That stupid, pigheaded motherfucker. If his little troop of assholes didn’t have guns, I would rip off his arms and beat him senseless with them,” Scott whispered toward Ray.
“Shut up, Scott, the guy has ears like a cat.”
Richard Fuller took several steps toward Scott. “Excuse me, but I did not catch your name.”
Scott stared coolly into his eyes. “My name is Scott Gerber,” he hissed.
Richard Fuller moved like greased lightning. He kicked his right leg forward, and his leather shoe made hard impact with Scott’s knee. Scott doubled up in pain and at the same moment, something sharp hit his face right between the eyes. He could have sworn it was Fuller’s left elbow, but once he hit the ground, Fuller once again stood there in a relaxed pose.
“You know, Mister Gerber, to make imprudent remarks about someone who obviously has the upper hand is not courageous, but stupid. Maybe someday you will get the chance to rip off the arms of this stupid, pigheaded motherfucker. The world is going under, gentlemen. The only thing that still separates us from animals and these monsters are our good manners. I don’t want you to remember me and my loyal followers as barbarians. I cannot leave you behind without any protection. And now I wish you a good day.”
With these words, Richard Fuller casually tossed Jenna’s baseball bat toward them and turned around. Scott wanted to run forward, pick up the bat and use it to smash Fuller’s skull, but Ray held him back.
Fuller cast a scornful glance over his sho
ulder, and then he and his men got into the vehicles and drove off in a cloud of dust. The small band of survivors was left behind. Four adults, two children and a dog, in a world full of undead and only armed with a baseball bat.
The Right Motivation
“That scumbag!” Scott spat on the ground. “That fucking asshole! If I ever meet him again, I’ll… ”
“Yeah, then what, Scott?” Phil abruptly interrupted him. “Then you’ll once again rush headlong into a situation without thinking, without paying attention to the obvious danger, without any consideration for the consequences—even just for a brief moment?”
Scott had not expected this. “What do you mean?”
Phil sighed. “Scott, you are one of the most helpful, generous people I know, but I’m just worried about the children and the rest of us. I don’t want your personality to change, but next time you decide to try and save the world, you also might want to think about us, for starters. That asshole was completely correct with one aspect of his statement, after all—the world is going under—and we shouldn’t automatically assume that everyone is as honest as we are.”
Scott snorted. “So when injustice happens, I should just ignore it? Is that what you’re trying to say, Phil?“”
“I think what Phil is trying to say is that so far we’ve been very lucky. Each of us owes you his life. You risked your life to save ours, and we did the same, whenever possible. But at the same time, there are people you don’t have to save,” Ray explained.
“Please stay the way you are, Scott. Just try to put your interests and ours more at the forefront, that’s all. We all want to get out here in one piece, don’t we?” Phil’s voice now sounded less reproachful.
Scott glanced down at the ground. He was now ashamed that he had put everyone in this unfortunate situation. “You’re right. From now on, I’ll be more cautious. It’s hard to get used to the idea that there’s not much compassion left in this world anymore.”
“I believe you, my friend.” Phil stepped next to Scott and placed a hand on his shoulder. “Let’s move on. We’re easy targets out here.”
Scott picked up the baseball bat. “Do you think there’s anything in the house we can use?”
“Well, we can be certain there’re no weapons to be found. I doubt a guy liked Fuller would have left something like that for us to find,” Ray said.
“I’ve looked at the map often enough. We just have to follow the road and it will automatically lead us to Fort Weeks. It’s not all that far, and we should be able to walk there,” Scott said.
Chris, who was lying on the ground, groaned. Watson lay down next to him and flattened his ears. “Chris won’t be able to walk. Phil, can you take care of the kids? We’ll try to come up with something for him. Maybe there’s something useful in the house after all.”
“That’s okay,” Phil said and nodded.
Ray took the baseball bat from Scott. “Let me go ahead. We have to hurry. We need to get to Fort Weeks before the darkness falls. It would be suicide to walk along the road at night. Scott, come with me. We have to find something we can turn into a stretcher for Chris. Phil, watch the front door and see if anybody shows up. I don’t know what it looks like on the inside, but I don’t think the kids should see it.” Phil nodded gratefully.
“Then let’s not waste any more time.” Scott picked up Chris carefully and carried him to the house. Ray, armed with the baseball bat, went ahead and slowly climbed the steps to the porch. Phil took his children by the hand and walked behind the men. The three of them stopped at the foot of the porch steps. Phil grabbed Watson by the collar and kneeled down next to his children.
“Robbie, Fiona. We’re going to play a game. Whoever sees a person or an animal first will whisper it to the others. But you have to be quiet because we don’t want to scare away an animal.”
Scott placed Chris on a small, padded wooden bench directly next to the front door. Chris coughed, but he still seemed to be unconscious. Ray stood behind Scott and placed a hand on his back.
“I expect everything to be dead in the house because those assholes were waiting for us, all along, but we have to be prepared for anything to happen. I’m going first.”
Both of them carefully entered the house. A narrow hallway, with two doors each on the left and right side, led further into the interior. Ray looked first into the open doors on the left side, then into those on the right. To the left, there was a living room, and on the right side, a compact kitchen. The two of them continued to tiptoe through the ground floor. Except for their own breathing and the slight creaking of the wooden floor boards, they could hear no other sounds. There was nothing of interest in the small living room.
“Couch, table, chairs, blankets. Nothing we can use,” Ray whispered. Then they continued sneaking through the ground floor.
It did not look like Richard Fuller’s group had spent much time here. The kitchen cabinets had been hastily plundered, and several cans were scattered on the floor— some empty, some full.
Ray saw a narrow door in the corner of the kitchen. Store room. Just exactly what I was looking for.
A slight scratching sound from the direction of the door made both of them flinch.
Ray looked at Scott and nodded. He walked slowly toward the door and raised the bat over his head. Scott understood what Ray was trying to do. He stood next to the door, with his back to the wall and slowly grabbed the door knob. He would open the door, and Ray would smash whatever there was inside to pieces. Ray nervously inhaled, while Scott held his breath. He held up three fingers and slowly counted down.
Three, two, one. Scott swiftly jerked the door open.
Contrary to their expectations, no undead creature jumped out. They only saw two feet in the darkness of the small room. The corpse was swinging on a rope tied to a ceiling beam. The corpse looked human, not like a zombie. There apparently had been no transformation, which might be explained by the round hole in his forehead.
So Fuller’s cohorts were obviously not all that diplomatic in dealing with the homeowner. Another senseless death.
“Looks like those lousy bastards murdered the owner.”
“If I ever see Fuller again, I’m going to kill him,” Scott said, stunned.
Ray searched further into the small store room and had to smile.
An ironing board. Must be almost as comfortable as a stretcher.
“Give me a hand with this, Scott.”
The two of them walked out of the house with their makeshift stretcher. Phil frowned and gave them a questioning look when he saw them with their find.
“It’s a stretcher—of sorts. We don’t have anything better.” Scott lifted Chris from the bench, together with the cushion, and placed him on the ironing board.
“You two hold the front and I will carry the rear on my own.” Scott grabbed the back end. Ray placed the baseball bat on Chris. He and Phil lifted alternate sides of the ironing board-cum-stretcher.
“Fiona, take your little brother by the hand. You two stay next to us and keep your eyes open. Remember, we’re still playing that game.”
“Okay, dad,” Fiona said and took Robbie by the hand.
“Let’s go. We’ve lost too much time already.”
The small group started walking, with Watson faithfully following along. He walked next to Ray and looked up at him, panting. Ray glanced down at the dog, and found he had to smile at Watson’s eager expression. Maybe we’ll end up as friends after all, Ray thought.
During the first hour they made good headway, considering their circumstances. Even though carrying Chris took a lot of effort, they saw no new dangers and regained hope. They were on the main road again, so Fort Weeks could not be too far away now.
“Pssst, papa, I won the game. There are people there,” Fiona whispered and pointed toward some far-away trees.
Gradually, several undead creatures came in sight. They had noticed the group and were now lurching slowly, but steadily in their direction. R
ay cast a worried glance at Scott. Unlike their friend who carried his weight steadily like a pack mule, Ray and Phil were visibly exhausted. They would not be able to run from danger while carrying Chris. The distance between the zombies and their group did not shrink during the next half hour, but they also could not shake them off.
After a while, more pursuers appeared. With every mile they covered, more of the undead noticed them. A short time later, ten creatures were already on their trail.
“Don’t look back, kids, just keep on walking,” Phil said through clenched lips.
“Ray, I see more and more of them,” Scott whispered.
“I know. We have to keep moving. We would have no chance fighting them here. We only have a baseball bat and no hands free to defend ourselves. Can you carry Chris by yourself?”
Scott growled. “I can try.” They put the makeshift stretcher down. Scott lifted Chris over his shoulder. “We have to somehow get rid of these fucking beasts,” he said.
“Get rid of these fucking beasts,” Robbie parroted him.
“Sorry, Phil,” Scott apologized.
They accelerated their pace as much as they could, but gradually they slowed down again. An injured Chris and the two young children didn’t allow them to walk any faster.
Scott panted and sweated profusely. He longed for a sip of cool water. Ray looked at him and noticed his heavy breathing.
“Should I take him?”
“You can barely hold the baseball bat,” Scott groaned, flashing a pained smile.
Their undead pursuers had moved even closer now. They were about a hundred yards away, and their number had increased to twenty— and unlike Scott, they were not running out of breath. They were not hampered by pains in the knees, and they did not need water. It was only a matter of time when they would finally reach the group.
Scott began to stagger, and Ray had to support him. The strenuous last days were now taking their toll on the husky lumberjack due to not enough water, food and sleep. Scott was panting like a steam locomotive now, and the children were also whining non-stop, as they too were exhausted. Phil tried to calm them down, but to little effect. Now he carried them alternately, first Robbie and then Fiona. Meanwhile, the horde crept closer. Step by step. Yard by yard. Inexorably. Relentlessly. The distance became shorter and shorter.
