The Failed Coward

by Chris Philbrook

  We were surrounded by gas fumes, and a gun going off that close to us could’ve set the whole place on fire. Gilbert lost all the color in his face when he made the connection. He was about half a second away from damn near blowing us sky high, and he hadn’t given it a thought. He backed away to a safe distance and snapped off a single powerful .308 shot, and killed the zombie. Abby just looked at him in amazement. She was shocked at what he almost did. Gilbert looked a little ashamed as well.

  I didn’t say anything, or give him a dirty look. I drained the hoses back into the underground storage tank and got everything more or less as clean as I could get it. With just a few more zombies coming into rifle range I decided I really wanted to get inside the store to see if anything was left behind. I asked Patty and Gilbert if they thought we had ten minutes to spare, and they both thought we had the time.

  I smashed out the small shards of glass remaining in the broken window frame at the front of the store, and climbed inside. Abby covered the front while I cleared the interior. Most of the store was cleaned out, and there were no undead inside. There was an epic pool of blood on the floor near the busted windows though. I am fairly sure someone who came in there cut themselves open on the glass when they jumped in. That someone didn’t take the time to get the glass out of the way and it looks like they paid the price for their stupidity with a few pints of red innards.

  I snagged plastic bags from behind the counter and took everything I could find. Motor oil, shitty flashlights, a few things of various batteries, lighters, condoms, energy shot drinks, car fresheners, a few car ice scrapers, a bottle of diet generic cola, three rolls of toilet paper, and some miscellaneous bullshit that may or may not be useful at a later date. I’m starting to see some wisdom in the Patty and Abby school of loot acquisition. Bring everything home and sort it out later.

  As I handed Abby the bags of shit I’d gathered up I realized I’d forgotten to check one of the largest areas in the store. I recalled that the coolers here had a walk in door in the back so you could wheel a dolly right into the cooler directly. I told Abby I would be right back. I found the heavy duty refrigerator door and yanked it open quickly, stepping back. Nothing moved inside, and I found a motherlode. Stacked about waist high running ten feet straight along the back wall of the cooler were 12 packs of soda, beer, energy drinks, and various other beverages you find at convenience stores. I grabbed the dolly sitting in the hall and stacked as much as I could up, and wheeled it out the front door. Abby busted a mega nut when she saw me wheeling it out and laughed again. Apparently I was grinning ear to ear screaming “YAHOO!” as I ran across the parking lot pushing the dolly, but I don’t remember that at all. I think she’s bullshitting me.

  I dropped the dolly near the ass end of Gilbert’s truck, and ran back inside to get the second load of soda with the other dolly I saw. When I was about three quarters of the way done loading the drinks on the dolly, I heard Patty and Gilbert’s guns start barking at the undead outside. A small pack of dead folks had come out of the woodwork somehow and were alarmingly close to us. I wheeled the dolly out the front door again, stopped, and drew the Glock to help. I snapped off a small number of rounds to kill a few as Abby got everything loaded into the trucks.

  Once everything was clear enough to move safely, I helped Abby load the rest of the beverages into the truck along with the two dollies and we all piled into the trucks. We were history. The plow truck drove like shit with all the extra weight from the full barrels. I nearly lost control rounding a reasonably gentle corner due to the barrels shifting sideways and the slick sleet covering the road. Luckily I was paying attention and avoided losing all the fuel we’d just worked so hard to get.

  The roads home were clear of danger, and it didn’t appear that we had led any undead our way towards campus. Our first stop was big blue. We topped off big blue out of one of the barrels, and then topped off the other barrel we’d left behind on campus. That meant the one barrel in the truck was empty enough to get off the truck using the engine lift we’d used to move the stove. Once that was down, we topped it off with the barrel still in the truck. You get the idea. In the end we had all our gas cans full, and all our barrels topped off except for one that was about half full.

  All in all, a laborious process, but very fruitful. I think this was totally worth it. I want to say we only had to fire maybe 20 to 40 rounds in total, and those were all kills, so in reality, we can’t say those rounds were wasted. We NEED fuel, we NEED trade supplies, and the zombies NEED to die eventually. If we’re going to do it, do it right I suppose. Plus all those drinks stashed in the cooler were a complete hardcore loot haul.

  After all that I was a physical wreck. Everything was sore. Between the pounding from the damn rack I got courtesy of Patty, and the constant cranking from the sump pump, I was a done boy. I wound up taking a two hour nap until dinner. Patty was nice enough to crack open some cans of food and warm it up for us, and she brought me a plate on the couch where I passed out. Lol. I fell asleep with my body armor on too, which was funny. I haven’t done that since Baghdad. Incidentally, not particularly comfortable to sleep in. Exhaustion is a powerful sleep aid though.

  Everyone has settled down for the night. Gilbert headed back to Casa De Donohue for the evening, and Abby and Patty both headed in early. I’m sitting in the recliner right now watching Voltron on DVD and typing this. Otis has taken up residence on top of my Glock, which is sitting in the holster on the end table an arm’s reach away. That cat loves guns. Can’t get enough of sleeping on them.

  I’m not entirely sure what’s next on our agenda. Now that we’re fueled up for a few weeks or so, I’m thinking we either go hunting to bag some deer, or maybe start clearing houses, or both. I’m fairly comfortable telling the other three to go off and do shit on their own now. I’d really like to head off into the woods early, early tomorrow and get some nice quiet time in with the Savage. Even if I don’t kill anything, I’d be satisfied with some time away.

  Mm. Yeah that sounds good. My alternative plan is to hit the daycare, but I’m far too sore to attempt to clear a building that size, especially one filled with pint sized abominations afoot inside. Fuck that noise Mr. Journal. Although it might be amusing to try and clear a building using only a weed whacker, or a 4 iron. I’m a sucker for a challenge.

  Can you say suicide?

  Anyhoo! I’m headed in. It’s an early night for Mr. Ring here. If I sleep well, I’ll be up with the chickens and out into the woods looking for a twelve point buck filled head to toe with yummy venison. Man I’d love a big fat bastard with extra meat to trade to Mike on it.

  I’m gonna pop open a root beer. Or an orange soda.

  Or both.

  Fuck it, I earned it.

  -Adrian

  March 12th

  Fortune favors the bold. And the really quiet.

  Bagged a deer today. Wasn’t the fat bastard I was hoping for, but it was a deer nonetheless. A small buck, maybe a hundred ten pounds. I can’t be certain of the weight because I didn’t get on a scale holding it.

  I woke up early as I expected I would, and decided to head out early to get setup in a hide before too much light got into the sky. I warmed up a can of chicken noodle soup and put it in one of the thermos containers we’ve had here forever. I grabbed up a few granola bars as well, and after stogging down a can of corn and a can of peas, I layered myself up good and marched into the woods. I walked out past the athletics fields and the giant funeral pyre that still needed to be relit.

  It still smelled horrid. In case you were wondering.

  Realizing that the bodies were putting off a wretched odor, I checked for the windage, and made sure I went upwind and far from the pile of half burnt bodies. I knew the deer would be scared away from the smell, and wanted to minimize the chance I’d be sitting in a dead spot with that scent on the air.

  I put a solid mile down into the woods before I noticed animal tracks in the snow. I’d never been out to this
area of the campus, and was kind of surprised to find a small stream heading north-south. I’m not sure how deep it is normally, but with the thaw we’ve had mixed with the few day’s rain, it was definitely too deep for a zombie to cross. Finding that little gift was a pretty pleasant surprise. I don’t know if you remember Mr. Journal, but I was pretty desperate to wall off this back side of campus long ago, and knowing that stream is there makes me less antsy about it. It might also explain why we haven’t had any undead wandering through the woods to get onto campus in this direction.

  I am however a little weirded out that there’s a fair chance a zombie got swept away in the stream’s current, and is now trapped underneath the lake ice, bobbing around, waiting for spring to make its escape. That might keep me up a night or two. It'll have to get in line with the other shit that keeps me up at night though.

  Anyway, moving up to the stream in a few places I noticed several sets of tracks. I’m not positive, but there were at least three or four sets of deer tracks in the same thirty or forty foot area. That’s a great sign, as it means there are more deer right in our backyard should we want to hunt more. I don’t want to overhunt them though. At least not this winter. Next winter after they’ve had an uninterrupted breeding season, we can hunt more, but for now, I want to give them a chance to repopulate.

  I found a downed tree that had a nice elbow in a thick branch, and set myself up with a good field of view of the stream, and the woods. I made myself comfortable, relaxed, and waited for something to come by.

  I came to the realization while sitting there in the woods that I miss my family. I miss hunting trips with dear old weird dad, and my odd brothers. We hunted a fair amount growing up, and dad was very much an outdoorsman. Sitting there on a cold March morning sipping on my thermos of hot soup, all I could think about was being fifteen and waiting for my first buck to walk by. I had been reminiscing for a few hours when the deer I took down crept up on the stream for a drink.

  Without moving too much, I lifted the Savage and let it dip its head into the stream to get a drink. Mid swallow I clicked the safety, which froze the deer like a painting. A fifty yard shot later and I was hoofing it to make sure it was dead. The shot hadn’t killed it immediately, and it had put about twenty yards of real estate behind it from where I’d shot it. It was dead in the snow when I found it.

  Using my uncle’s old hunting knife I gutted it, and started the hour long process of dragging it back to campus to preserve. I radioed to the girls and Gilbert that I’d gotten a deer and a cheer came back. I tell you what, fresh meat and hide goes a long way towards cheering folks up. Gilbert met me at the ass end of campus with his truck and we drove to the maintenance building I’d converted into a smokehouse. He helped me dress it and make all the right cuts. I tell you what, he’s done that before. Even though this deer was smaller than the one I’d gotten last, he salvaged the same amount of meat off of it.

  We didn’t have enough salt to brine any meat this time, so we relied on smoking it. We also set aside a few steaks to enjoy for dinner, and I assure you Mr. Journal, if this journal had taste-o-vision, you’d be in hog heaven. It was beyond phenomenal. While Gilbert was getting the fire going for the venison smoking I snagged a small two gallon gas container and a few armloads of wood and drove back out to the pyre to get it relit. I got the wood put into strategic places, and used a gallon or so of gas to get it all going, and viola… Pyre was relit. After I threw most of my yummy soup up due to stench reasons, I headed back to the smokehouse, and Gilbert gave me a huge pat on the back for bringing home the bacon.

  And the deer hide as well, which Gilbert says he can use. I still had the hide from before as well, so now we have two hides to use. Yay for us.

  After that I decided I’d spend the rest of the day being warm inside, and messing with Otis. He’s been pretty cheerful lately, and I felt like obliging his frisky nature with some attention. Over our venison dinner we four went over plans for the near future, and all the possibilities of what could happen with new folks arriving from Westfield. Everyone is scared, but also very excited. Abby is more hopeful and excited over the possibility of Gavin coming to be here, which shouldn’t surprise anyone with a functioning heartbeat.

  We also discussed the timing of getting more shit accomplished. We need to build barrier walls around campus that can fully secure the area. At the very least, we need to start the dialogue with Mike about getting additional manpower here to help us with it. This will really be an issue once warm weather comes, as the undead will be able to get around easier, and we’ll be out in the athletics fields planting and maintaining our crops on a regular basis. Last thing we need is one of us to get jumped while we’re bending down to stick a cucumber seed in the dirt.

  We also agreed that the daycare was a ripe target for clearing if only to make sure it wasn’t filled with undead children. Patty seemed very adamant about making sure we put them to rest at the very least. I had to agree with her on principle. It’s creeping me out right now thinking about the possibility of there being a building filled with kids scratching and clawing their way out, one tiny broken fingernail at a time.

  If we get any food, or diapers, or formula out of the place too, then fantastic. If not, then we’ve done our good deed for the day. None of us felt comfortable doing it tomorrow on such short notice. Mike will have to wait a bit for his baby formula supplies.

  We’d passed a few houses that were far enough from downtown that we could clear them without too much fuss, and the girls were all gung ho about clearing them. Gilbert said he’d be more than happy to go with them, which means I got a day off tomorrow. I think I’m going to try and figure out a way to destroy the ice near the bridge to cut down on the likelihood of any zombies using it as a fucking freeway again. After that, who knows? Maybe I’ll channel 13 year old Adrian and watch some porn on the big screen while everyone is away. If I’m lucky, maybe Otis will sit on the couch near me, watching with that quizzical look on his face as I do it.

  The day after tomorrow we have our meet with Mike here, and I’m hoping we’ve got some good stuff we can trade to him. I know we’ll have extra venison we can trade, but I’d like to find some other things he might want. I also hope he’s got some kind of a firm answer as to how many folks may or may not be interested in moving here to help even out the populations, and give us some extra labor force.

  Either way, it’ll be nice to see Mike and company. I am a big Mike fan.

  -Adrian

  March 14th

  It’s unreal how busy some days are around here. The past couple days have been hectic. Run you ragged bullshit days. I have that pleasant, “I accomplished shit, and thus feel good about myself” glow. Almost as satisfying as the sex afterglow. I mean definitely not the same as that, cuz shit, sex afterglow is pretty good stuff, but this is still nice. More comparable to the “I just had a really satisfying piece of cake” afterglow.

  Campus security since our massive onslaught has been priority number one for me. Everyone has been walking on pins and needles because we’ve had so many zombies up Auburn Lake Road and here on campus. We never actually counted the bodies, but there were hundreds and hundreds up here after the 3rd and my bizarre dream about the white room. Ooooh, sudden urge. I am compelled to capitalize that suddenly into The White Room. That…. Seems more correct to me for some reason. Odd sensation ran up my spine after I wrote that. The weirdness never stops around here.

  Knowing that the ice on the lake became a major liability made me want to break it all as best I could so the zombies couldn’t fucking walk across it again. I knew it’d be tough and possibly dangerous work, but I really felt it needed to be done. If only to let me sleep at night.

  Yesterday the weather was pretty sweet, and instead of accompanying Patty, Abby, and Gilbert out on their small house clearing project, I decided I’d play “ADRIAN SMASH!” The girls and our elder Green Beret operator went off down Route 18 towards our new gas station to clear three ho
uses they felt safe doing. They were good sized homes spread a fair bit apart, and with proper procedure, they were confident it would go well. I think they felt pretty good about hiding their nervousness to me too, but I could see it in their eyes. It almost made me go with them, but they really needed this for themselves.

  Breaking the ice turned out to be much easier than I thought it would be. After eating a late breakfast solo, and watching some porn on the big screen with some hand lotion and a tissue (also solo, much to my dismay), I grabbed an eight foot length of 2x4 from our wood supply, and headed to the bridge.

  The recent drizzle and subsequent fog has unnerved the piss out of me, but it has eaten away at the snow and ice like acid. The snow is half gone from our February high, and the ice around the bridge at the mouth of the stream/river is busted into large chunks that appear to be somewhere around four inches thick. Seeing that it was already broken up somewhat, I simply leaned over the railing of the small bridge and hammered the end of the 2x4 into the edges of the large slabs of frozen lake. Repeated smashes chipped away dinner plate sized bits that floated away from the larger chunks. I did this for about four hours, taking a break every thirty seconds to make sure nothing was creeping up on me.

  I took a lunch break, finished off the last of our milk (and boy did I hear about that when the girls got home last night) and made myself a package of ramen noodles and mushroom soup. Not too shabby all things considered. I put more hickory sticks on the fire in the smokehouse treating the venison we got the other day, and I migrated my tired ass back to the bridge, and smashed apart the rest of the huge icebergs near the bridge. I was happy with the situation there, and made my way up river away from the lake, making sure the ice across the stream couldn’t hold the weight of a person or zombie, as the case may be.