Grandma came outside, the screen door banging shut behind her. “Mychal?” She took one look and wrapped her arms around him. “Oh, Honey, it isn’t your fault. Come on inside and let me fix you something to drink.”
He shook his head. “We all need to leave. This isn’t as safe as we thought it would be. We probably brought all these zombies with us.”
“Don’t be silly. They’ve been here the whole time, wandering in and out occasionally. We can be safe here.” She glanced around. “Do some fence repair, keep lookouts posted. Where would we go anyway?”
“A safe zone. Tyndale Air Force Base.”
“No, any populated area has been overrun. If there’s a safe place, it’ll be in the middle of nowhere. Come on inside. This is your sanctuary for now.”
“There’s no such thing!” He pulled free. “We’re all sitting here waiting to die.”
“That’s enough.” Chalice grabbed his arm. “As long as even one of us lives, there’s hope. Junior and Sissy knew better than to run off. Colton found a hole under the house. Another zombie was in there. It’s cleared out now and the hole patched up.”
Grandma wiped her face with her apron. “And here I’d told George just the other day to get rid of the mice.” She smiled. “More like rats, I’d say. Come on, you two. Let’s make a plan to fortify this place and see whether God wants us to stay or move on.”
“I think God’s forgotten about the living.” Mychal followed the others inside, his heart still aching over his failure at keeping Junior and Sissy alive. From the look on Chalice’s face, her having to shoot them would haunt her sleep for a lot of nights to come. Mychal would have his own nightmares to deal with.
One of them being his mother still alive, horribly burned, and wandering the world alone until either she found them, turned into a zombie, or took her own life as Angel’s mother had done.
7
“With the power out, we can’t turn the electric fence on,” Grandma said, pointing at the rough map she’d drawn on the back of wrapping paper. “But there are some holes in the barbed wire fencing we can fix.”
Chalice bit her bottom lip, studying the area around the house. “Do you still have any of Grandpa’s traps? It won’t kill the zombies, but it might slow them down, if they come a few at a time.”
“Except they seem to come in hordes,” Mychal said, crossing his arms. “I like the idea, but I think we need bug out vehicles, just in case we’re overwhelmed.”
Grandma sat back in her chair, her index finger on her chin. “I agree. Something big to load all our things in. We’ll keep all the necessities in there, blankets, food, water, etc. Kind of like one big pantry and linen closet. We’ll keep our weapons and some ammo in the house, small enough to grab and run if we need to.”
“Do you know of something?” Colton asked. “Something we can back right up to the steps for an easy getaway?”
Chalice sagged against the table. “Y’all sound like we’re going to have to leave for sure.”
“No, honey.” Grandma put her hand over Chalice’s. “We’re playing it safe. There’s a chicken farmer down the road. He’s got a couple of trucks he uses to transport those nasty birds. It ought to work just fine for what we need.”
Bill nodded. “That’ll be big enough for the things we’ll need, but we ought to have something without holes in it to transport the children. Zombies will smell them through the breathing holes.”
“Man also owns a Hummer.” A teapot whistled on the gas stove, and Grandma stood to pour them hot drinks. “I know for a fact he won’t mind us taking them. He turned, and I shot him myself two weeks ago.” She stopped pouring and bowed her head. “I pray we won’t have to leave this house. Grandpa and I built it together when your mother was nothing but a baby.”
Chalice put her arm around Grandma’s shoulders. “I pray we won’t either, but God seems to have abandoned His people. It’s up to us.”
“Don’t you dare speak like that in my house!” Grandma jerked away. “We’re still alive and breathing. That’s has to account for something, doesn’t it? That God stills cares. It isn’t God that made that nasty virus that Mother Nature released. That was nothing but man’s stupidity.”
“I’m sorry.” Chalice swallowed back tears. “I’m tired and scared. I want a safe place to stay.”
“I don’t think there is one,” Mychal said. “We’re going to be like gypsies, moving from one place to the next. Eventually, the food will run out and humanity will die off, leaving the earth to those things.”
“Ugh.” Chalice stomped from the room and moved to the front porch.
The motorhome took up the entire driveway, leaving Bill’s truck on the side of the road. The front of the motorhome was bashed in. She didn’t know how it’d lasted as long as it had. Maybe Grandma was right and God was looking out for them.
Lady shoved her cold nose in Chalice’s hand. Chalice opened the porch gate and let the dog out to do her business. She’d bark if a non-breather showed up. Hopefully, they’d get a few days’ reprieve to fix the fence and set the traps. If the younger kids wanted to play, they could play on the porch. Stupid zombies didn’t seem to know how to climb stairs.
She lifted her face to the early summer sky, a brilliant blue now that the grey dust cloud from the meteors had passed. Had the virus only hit the United States or had some poor fool sailed across the ocean, taking the zombie bug with them? Maybe it carried on the wind, taking death and destruction to all four corners of the world. Either way, the entire planet was screwed.
“Bill and I are leaving to get the truck.” Colton walked up behind her. “Do you want to come?”
She shook her head. “No, I’ll stay here and help guard the place. Take Mychal. Sarah and I will hold down the fort. I think I’ll bake a cake.”
“A cake?” He raised his eyebrows. “Why?”
“We need to do something fun. Listen, Colton.” She pointed to the house. “No laughing, no crying, nothing. The younger kids are traumatized about Junior and Sissy. We need to do something normal.”
He kissed her, soft, warm, and something so normal between a boy and a girl that tears sprang to her eyes. He cupped her cheek. “Save me a slice.”
“We’ll wait for you,” she whispered. “Be safe and come back.”
“Wouldn’t have it any other way.” He kissed her again and called for Bill before jogging to Bill’s truck. The other man followed, telling Grandma to leave the light on, whatever that meant.
“See you, later.” And like the other two, Mychal dashed off the porch.
Chalice prayed it wouldn’t be the last time she saw any of them. They should all stay together. No one should leave, trying to be a hero. Who knew what waited for them down the road.
Not seeing any of the walking dead, and noticing how Lucy calmly sniffed around the yard, Chalice moved down the steps and watched the men drive away. She shaded her eyes with her hand and glanced in the other direction. The dirt road was empty. Not a cloud of dust rising or a shuffling undead person. The men would be all right.
She snapped her fingers for Lady to follow her and then grabbed her gun from the porch before walking around the perimeter of the house. She found the spot where the zombies had been, the ones that killed Junior and Sissy. Someone had nailed a piece of plywood over the hole and kicked dirt over the blood.
At the back of the house, she checked the zombie funeral fire, glad the flames were burning themselves out and taking the stench away. It was almost as if the horrors of the day hadn’t happened. Except for the growling coming from the mud porch.
Chalice marched onto the porch, slammed open the door, and put a bullet between the eyes of Colton’s pet. Grinning, and feeling better than she had all day, she went to the kitchen to bake a chocolate cake.
“What was the gunshot?” Grandma came running from the bedroom.
“Target practice.” Chalice opened the kitchen cabinet and started pulling out ingredients for a cake from scratch.
“You shot that thing, didn’t you?” Grandma grinned. “Colton will be so mad.”
“He can get another one. They’re all over the place.”
*
Colton rode in the back of Bill’s truck to the chicken farm and stood up when Bill cut the ignition. Two long chicken houses stretched across the land, silent, and possibly harboring death. The smell said so anyway. He pulled the neckline of his shirt over his nose. Were all the chickens dead or were the buildings housing hundreds of zombies?
He was kind of hoping to see chickens scratching across the lawn. Fresh chicken would taste good for supper.
“See anything?” Mychal slid from the truck, leaving the passenger side door open.
“No. Hey, can you drive?” They had three vehicles, if you counted Bill’s truck, and three drivers, possibly.
“Yes, but I don’t have a license. Just a permit.”
Colton laughed. “I don’t think that’s going to matter. Think you can drive Bill’s truck?”
“I suppose you’ll take that yellow Hummer over there.”
“Hell, yeah.” He’d wanted one for a long time. “Bill can have the smelly chicken transporter.”
“Very funny, boys. Stop flapping your lips and let’s get this show on the road. I’m not looking forward to any visitors.” He headed for the house. “We should check inside. See if there’s anything we can use. Most folks around here are bound to have weapons and ammo. Hunting is a favorite past time.”
“Good thinking.” Colton jumped from the back of the truck and motioned for Mychal to follow. No one should stay outside alone.
“Wait.” Bill held up a hand. “I heard something inside. Have your guns ready.”
“Maybe we should just leave,” Colton suggested. “If we fire a shot, we’ll alert any other zombies around.”
“But we might be able to rid the world of one or two,” Mychal said. “I vote for that.”
“Or, there could be a survivor hiding inside.” Bill pushed the door open. “Hello? Is there anybody in here?”
A shot rang out, splintering the wood beside his head. All three of them ducked.
“We mean no harm,” Bill called out. “We’re here for a truck.”
“Those are mine.” A woman’s voice called from their right. “Mine and my husband’s.”
“My grandmother sent me.” Mychal pressed close to the wall. “My name is Mychal Hart. She said no one lived here anymore.”
“She was wrong.” A woman about forty-five years old stepped around the corner, a shotgun cradled in her arms. “I’m still here. My husband will be home soon.”
“Not if he’s the zombie my grandma killed two weeks ago.”
Colton wanted to punch Mychal in the mouth. “We’re sorry, ma’am. You’re welcome to come with us. We’ve a group of us, half are children, staying at Mrs. Wilson’s down the road.”
“Betty Wilson?” The woman lowered her gun. “She killed my husband?”
“I’m sure he had turned, ma’am. Had he been bitten or taken sick?” Colton ached for the look of loss on her face. “You shouldn’t stay here alone.”
She shook her head. “No, you’re right. Come on in. My name’s Rhonda Willard. What is it y’all need?”
“A chicken transport and the Hummer for starts.” Bill put a hand on her shoulder. “Weapons, food, ammo, water, anything you have.”
“I’ve got it all. My husband was a prepper. Said something like this was bound to happen.” She gave a sad smile. “I think he thought it would be more on the lines of a solar flare, though.” She ran a hand along a curio cabinet. “I hate to leave behind my things, but it’s been lonesome by myself and seeing children again will give me hope. I knew something had happened when my husband left. He’d had a fever all day. Said he cut himself in the chicken house. Guess he got bit and didn’t want to worry me.” She wiped away a tear. “Left before he could make me one of them, too.”
An hour later, one of the transports cleaned to where the smell wasn’t quite as strong, loaded down with a crate of egg-laying hens, one rooster, and a dozen wooden crates, Colton climbed behind the wheel of the Hummer. He ran his hand over the steering wheel, wishing the vehicle had become his under better circumstances. He sighed and started the ignition, then followed Bill away from the Willard’s chicken farm.
If they loaded up the back of the Hummer and Bill’s truck, there might be room to build bunks along the inside of the transporter for them to all sleep in. They could board up the sides and attach bunks right to the sides. Kind of like a sturdier motorhome, minus the stove and bathroom.
He glanced behind them to where Mrs. Willard rode with Mychal. If they kept picking up survivors, they might wish they’d taken both transporters.
When they pulled into the drive of Grandma’s house, Chalice stood in the middle of the street, both dogs at her side. She grinned and waved. “Cake’s waiting.”
Colton returned the wave, pleased at her reaction to their return and glad to see them all safe. “Thanks for saving us some.” He climbed from the Hummer and hurried to help Mrs. Willard from the truck. “They’ve baked a cake.”
“Oh, my.” She took in the sight of all the children on the porch and burst into tears, crying even harder when Grandma ran to her side.
“Rhonda! My friend. I feared the worst.” The two women hugged, Grandma apologizing over and over for killing the other one’s husband. “Please, forgive me.”
Mrs. Willard sniffed. “Nothing to forgive. He left to keep me safe. I couldn’t have shot him to save my life. Glad someone could.”
Colton froze. How could they speak so easily of taking the life of someone they loved? He glanced at Chalice. He’d rather shoot himself, than her. He let his gaze roam around the group on the porch. Even George, who still looked pale and in pain, waited to greet them. No, Colton couldn’t shoot any of them. That made Chalice a braver person than him. She’d been the one to put Junior and Sissy out of their misery as the non-breathers fed on their small bodies.
“Chalice killed our pet!” Hanna wailed.
8
Colton stretched barbwire to fill the gaps in the fence. He cringed every time the sound of Chalice’s hammer rang out. Mychal and Eddy kept guard while the adults worked, and so far no zombies had shown up, attracted by the noise, but Colton still wished she’d hurry with attaching the spikes around the foundation of the house.
If he were honest, he’d rather they climbed into the trucks and drove somewhere more secure. A place with concrete walls, maybe. Every vehicle they had was pulled as close to the house as possible. If any of them gained weight, they wouldn’t be able to squeeze past the trucks to get in the house.
The children weren’t allowed to play outside anymore. What kind of a life was that? There had to be somewhere on this planet that survivors could live and thrive: maybe not to the standards from before, but where they could have some semblance of a normal life.
“Here’s some water.” Hanna handed him a bottle. “I don’t know why Chalice wants to stay so bad. If Grandma’s willing to leave, then why all the fuss at trying to make the farm into some kind of fortress?” She shook her head. “It’s only a matter of time before more zombies show up. I don’t want to be trapped in that house for the rest of my life.”
“I’ll talk to her again.” It was a waste of time trying to convince Chalice to leave. She’d stay until the last remnant of hope was gone.
“She can’t stay if everyone else says to go.” Hanna crossed her arms. “She won’t stay by herself. Oh, and Grandma said the baby needs diapers and formula. She doesn’t seem to take to fresh cow milk.” With those words, she stomped back to the house.
Where was he supposed to get those things? Every grocery store around would have been wiped out months ago. Who would he take with him? He needed enough people to cover his back, but still needed to leave enough adults behind to take care of their quickly growing daycare.
He grunted and tugged the fenci
ng into place. Stupid fence wouldn’t hold out a herd of zombies for long. If Colton and them were lucky, it might hold off the undead until the living could grab their weapons.
And, they definitely needed to stop picking up survivors. They could only properly care for so many, not an entire town! When all the crap started going down with the meteors, he’d been safe in his cave, worried about nobody but himself. Then, he’d spotted a pretty girl driving down the highway in a motorhome. And that pretty girl came with a couple other kids, then more, then a handful of adults that were dying off faster than flies in the winter time.
“Hey, kid.” Bill strolled his way, gun over his shoulder. “I’m done with the traps. Going in now to check on George. You almost done?”
“Yeah.” Colton tightened the last barbed strand. “I’d like to take a look at George’s stump, too.” He leaned against a fence post. “Wanted to be a doctor before all this went down. I’ve got several medical books in a box in the truck. During the time I hid away, I studied them cover-to-cover, hoping on a foolish dream.”
“Life has a way of knocking down dreams, doesn’t it?”
He didn’t want Bill’s pity. He wanted to go to college to earn his medical degree. “Yeah. After seeing to George, I’ve got to make a run…somewhere, for baby stuff.”
“There’s a Wal-Mart about five miles from here. You might get lucky. It’s a sparsely populated area.”
Colton shrugged. “It’s as good a place as any. I’ll take Chalice and Mychal. Can you handle things here on your own?”
Bill nodded. “Everyone from Eddy and up can handle a gun. We’ll be fine. You go and get back quick. Wouldn’t be good to be caught out after dark. You’ve got to worry about the bad living as well as the dead.”
They walked to the house and squeezed in behind the Hummer. Colton glanced at the empty zombie cage. He’d thought the girl had started to deteriorate, but wasn’t sure. Unless he found another one he could manage, he might not ever know. When he’d asked Chalice about shooting her, she’d replied, “I felt like it. It felt good, too.”
The Zombie Awakening (Complete 6 Volume Series, plus prologue) Page 13
