Mad Swine (Book 2): Dead Winter

by Steven Pajak

  “Time to go, dude.”

  It was dark outside and even darker inside. Using my mental image, I navigated through the house, picking up my coat and boots along the way. I sat at the top of the stairs and stuffed my feet into my boots and then pulled on my coat. Brian was already at the door with his pads of paper and map under one arm.

  Together we walked to the CP in silence, although this time it was not awkward; we were both just thinking about what lay ahead and what needed to yet be accomplished. The temperature had fallen several degrees since this afternoon but evening was still mild. The sky was clear, too.

  Brian and I were the last to show up; the rest of the group was already gathered around the table sharing coffee and bread Sam had wrangled up for the briefing. After accepting a cup of coffee from Sam, I sat down next to Lara. She was dressed in her usual battle-ready gear; her hair was tied into a ponytail and pulled up under her knit cap. She gave me a wan smile and then gave my leg a reassuring squeeze under the table.

  Brian got down to business. “I have assignments for each of you, so listen up carefully. If you have questions, ask them now; don’t wait until we’re in the shit to get clarification.”

  He looked at each person around the table and when he was satisfied that all eyes and ears were on him, he continued with the briefing. “Sam and Kat you are the home team. Your assignment is to make sure that everyone on the away team is packed appropriately for the journey.

  “Sam, we want four days worth of rations for each person and one liter of water. Canned goods would be best if you can spare them, but we’ll take whatever you have that’s easy for travel.”

  “I just need the list of who’s going and I’ll get started on that,” Sam said.

  Brian nodded in my direction. “Matt will get that for you.”

  Turning to Kat, Brian continued, “We’re going to be moving double time so their packs need to be light. Kat, I could use your help here. Folks are going to be packing like they’re moving to a new apartment and I’m going to need you to help me cut their loads to the bare essentials.”

  “You can count on me.”

  “Great. Now the away team. Gather around. I need you to memorize these maps and formations.”

  Brian laid his handwritten maps and formation drawings on the table in front of us. Like eager children, we all leaned forward and studied his drawings, listening carefully as he laid out the details of the mission. When he was on the road, Brian had drawn up a crude map and kept track of places where he found safe shelter. His notes were quite detailed, listing how many days he stayed at each location, the condition of the shelter and his estimate on maximum occupancy.

  Using those maps and comments now, Brian suggested what the best route that would take us to shelters he felt were large enough to accommodate our group. He also covered alternate routes and shelters in case of emergency. After reviewing the maps, we studied his formation charts. He organized us into five teams, with Chandra, Justin, Lara, me and Brian acting as team leaders. We would move in squad column formation, keeping the most vulnerable of our members at center, with Brian out front, Justin and Chandra on our flanks, leaving me with rear duty. Depending on the situation, we could form up as needed. Using the list that I gave Sam, Brian assigned each team leader the men and women who would be their responsibilities. If we needed to split up, we would do so in teams and rendezvous at the next shelter designated on our maps.

  I was pleased to see that Ray and Wesley were assigned to my team.

  Sam and Kat took their leave to get started on their assignments, but Justin and Chandra stuck around, asking questions and further studying the maps and points of shelter. Although I had no reason to feel nervous, I suddenly felt butterflies in my stomach. Brian’s plan was well thought out and I knew that we had the right people as team leaders. Yet there was still this nagging feeling in my gut.

  We stayed in the CP until well after 2300 hours, pouring over the mission. When I got home I was exhausted. Again I fell onto the sofa and closed my eyes. This time, sleep eluded me. My mind kept racing, pondering over the details of our plan. Each time I closed my eyes I saw the names of those assigned to my team. In my gut, there was still that nagging feeling. I don’t know how long I lay there before sleep finally came. My sleep was plagued by bad dreams, none of which I could remember upon waking. Thank God.

  * * *

  The morning was a disaster. Despite Brian and Kat’s best efforts, the away team was late to muster. When they finally arrived at the CP, Brian and Kat had their work cut out for them trying to cut down their loads. As Brian had predicted, the residents of Randall Oaks had packed all of their belongings to excess. It took a lot of patience—of which Brian usually had little, and Kat just a little more—to get the members of our community to leave their possessions behind.

  Many of our esteemed community members threatened to stay behind if they couldn’t bring their things. After a while, growing tired of the complaints and chaos, I finally addressed the group.

  “Everyone, listen up! Quiet down and give me your attention, damn it!” When they all fell silent, I walked down the line like a drill sergeant surveying a fresh crop of boots. “We are traveling seventeen miles across unknown territory. There are things out there that will be hunting us. We need to be able to move fast.”

  I stopped in front of Frank Delpino and looked down at the myriad of bags and suitcases that lay at his feet. Two medium suitcases on rollers stood to his left. Two backpacks lay against the set of matched luggage. Frank had also packed a large plastic bin, one of those Rubbermaid jobs that I had in my garage that I used to hold the kids old toys.

  “Do you see a truck here, Frank?”

  “No.”

  “Do you see a damn taxi or bus?”

  “Of course not.”

  “How the fuck do you think you’re going to transport all this shit?” Frank looked at me, dumbfounded and shocked by my language. Before he could respond, I spun away from him and raised my voice so they could all hear. “Come on people! Take this seriously. Everyone can take their largest back pack and a maybe a shoulder bag, but everything else has to stay.

  “I want you all to take all your shit back home. Pack a couple of changes of clothes, your smallest and dearest belongings, and whatever weapons you can carry and report back here. Sam will give you each four days’ worth of rations, which you will also need to pack in your gear.

  “We’ll come back for the rest of our stuff in the spring, I promise you. Now please go and repack your gear. If you think you can’t whittle down your gear, Kat and Brian will help you decide what you need. Move out, people!”

  It was another three hours before everyone’s gear was pared down to Brian’s and Kat’s satisfaction. Another half-hour passed while Sam passed out the allotment of rations to each member of the away team. The hour after that was spent on splitting up teams under the five team leaders and giving a quick refresher on movement formations. I’d almost forgotten how frustrating it could be working out logistics and training with a large group.

  Brian and Kat ran us through a few quick drills focused on defending from the flanks as well as front and rear with our more vulnerable companions at our center. By the fifth run through, Brian was satisfied and gave me a thumb up indicating he felt like we were finally ready to move.

  As we gathered at the front gate, the community was alive with excitement and sadness. I made my rounds and gave a few words of encouragement to those who would remain at Randall Oaks. I promised them that we’d return for them in the spring, sooner if possible. I shook their hands and embraced each one of them. Sam and Kat embraced me together; Sam was crying but Kat managed to keep her composure. All around us friends and neighbors said their farewells.

  It took six men to push the UPS truck forward far enough for us to fit through the battered gate and step out onto Route 20. The team leaders exited first to assess our situation. The drop in temperature had melted away much of the snow th
at covered the roadway, although the thicker drifts against our walls were minimally affected.

  Fanning out into the street, we each assessed the area, calling out the threats. There were not as many crazies as I expected, but their number was still substantial.

  “Use your firearms only if necessary. Let’s keep this as quiet as possible,” I said. I kept my eyes on the three creatures that slowly made their way toward me.

  “I’ve got two here,” Brian said.

  Lara chimed in. “Three here.”

  “Two on me,” Chandra shared.

  “I win,” Justin said. “I have four.”

  “Don’t let them bunch up,” I said and with that I started moving toward my enemy.

  In a one-on-one situation, most any crazy could easily be defeated if you kept your head about you and you had a weapon that could penetrate the skull. However, in groups they were extremely dangerous. Before the three on my side could form up, I ran to the closest one, a middle aged man with dirty blonde hair. One cheek, his left, hung down in a flap of skin and the eye above it had been punctured. The smell of him was rancid this close. I’d forgotten how badly they stunk.

  When I was about two feet away, I struck my first blow, the head of the splitting maul connecting with the dirty man’s right temple. The force of the blow vibrated into my hands and up into my forearms and I almost lost grip on my weapon. Fortunately, the axe head did not stick when I pulled back. With my weapon retracted from the thing’s head, its body fell limply at my feet.

  Barely breaking stride, I launched my assault on the next assailant. The old man was struggling forward on one leg, the other dragging severely behind and bent at an odd angle. His khaki pants were caked with mud and dried blood. His torso was fully exposed; whatever shirt he’d worn had long since been torn away. I quickly noted three pock marks on his chest which I assumed had been bullet holes before his flesh healed.

  I sidestepped the old man at the last moment and used the axe to knock his good leg out from under him. He face-planted onto the blacktop with a satisfying smacking sound, his blood a pool of black on the road.

  Leaving the old man on the ground, having bought myself some time, I engaged soccer mom who extended her arms out toward me, as if wanting to embrace me. I jabbed at her with the splitting maul, the heavy head smacking her in the face, splitting her nose and dislodging teeth and knocking her backward. She tottered for a moment like a pudgy child learning to walk before finally losing her balance and falling onto her backside. Before she could attempt to regain her feet, I swung the splitting maul in a wide arc with as much force as I could muster. The head of the axe struck the side of her neck exactly where I aimed. With almost no resistance, the edged weapon decapitated her. Her head fell beside her body; her arms still twitched for a moment before finally falling still beside her. A second later, her body fell slack and made a sickening smacking sound against the surface of the road.

  Fighting back the urge to vomit, I bent forward slightly and turned away from the beheaded corpse. From the corner of my eye, I saw that the old man had gotten to his knees. Acting quickly, putting aside the sight of the woman’s head falling, I swung my weapon as I pivoted on my right foot. Again, my aim was keen, and the flat end of the axe head struck the old man squarely in his temple. His body pitched to the side violently with the force of my blow and he fell to the ground. For a moment I watched as his body jerked against the ground. The blow must have damaged his spine where it connected at the base of the skull.

  Unable to command movement from his limbs, the old man continued to jerk along the blacktop. His head lay perpendicular to his body giving him a horror-movie look. His lower jaw seemed normal enough, but his upper jaw was turned sideways and the skin at the corner of his mouth was torn open.

  “Jesus Christ,” Brian said beside me.

  The sound of his voice startled me and I let out a small sound of surprise. Brian didn’t seem to notice. His attention was focused on the old man that strangely resembled the creature from the movie Pumpkinhead.

  After what seemed like a very long time, Brian tore his eyes away from the spectacle and said, “Kill the damn thing.” He started to walk away and then stopped after a few steps. Pointing at the old man, he said, “That right there is going to give me nightmares, dude.”

  After ending the thing’s suffering by smashing what was left of its skull with the splitting maul, I looked around to assess our situation. All of the team leaders had taken out the creatures in their sections without incident. We had managed to kill thirteen in less than two minutes without firearms. Even I had to admit that was quite impressive and I immediately felt much better about our odds of surviving this journey unscathed.

  With our path clear and our spirits lifted, the rest of our party joined us, stepping out onto Route 20 and taking the first steps toward our new destiny. For many of them, this was the first time they’d been outside of our walls in more than three months.

  Brian and Lara got the men and women spread out into teams with help from Justin and Chandra. Each team took up their position in our column, and as Brian got them moving, I looked at the thirteen friends I was leaving behind. When the distance we traveled grew greater and I could no longer make out their faces, I was suddenly overcome with a feeling that I’d never see them again. I wondered if I’d ever step foot into Randall Oaks again.

  Chapter 12

  Silent Night, Unholy Night

  The snow started to fall shortly after we got underway. The temperature had dropped several degrees, as well, and was quite noticeable, although no one complained. In fact, everyone had been quiet for most of our journey. Perhaps, like myself, they also felt that sickening feeling that they’d never see their friends again.

  I was satisfied with their silence; noise discipline was extremely important on the road, as the crazies were attracted to sound. Although we had made quick work of their kind just hours ago, I wanted to avoid an altercation at all costs. The best way to survive among the undead was to avoid them.

  By my estimate, we’d traveled about a mile and a half, in just over an hour and a half. I was surprised at how quickly the light seemed to be fading and I already regretted the time wasted this morning before getting on the road.

  Brian’s group was out front, followed by Chandra, then Lara and Justin. My group brought up the rear of our column. From my position at the tail, I had a clear view of all of our members. In front of me, Wesley pulled the red wagon with Ray’s radio equipment. Al Sanchez was currently taking a spell pushing Ray’s chair. Although Ray had insisted he would move under his own power, I insisted that the members of our group would take turns pushing his chair to ensure we all stayed together and no one lagged behind. Surprisingly, he resigned his argument quickly. I couldn’t be sure if it was the resoluteness in my order or fear of being left behind that drove Ray to relent. It didn’t matter to me either way as long as we continued to move at our brisk pace.

  The remaining members of my group, Al’s wife Araceli and his eldest daughter Belinda, walked at either flank of the wheel chair. Cody trotted alongside the wheelchair, his leash tied securely to one of the arms. The dog’s breath fogged out into the cold air with every pant. His head was constantly moving from side to side, his nose pointed slightly toward the sky, as he searched for new and interesting scents.

  As we neared the three mile mark an hour later, I began to become aware of the cold. The temperature had dropped several more degrees in a short period of time. A wind had come up from the east; it was against our backs, but it chilled the air even more. Through my thick coat, the coldness still found my flesh. My feet were beginning to stiffen and my toes hurt when I tried to curl them within my boots.

  Snow continued to fall and the thick flakes were now beginning to stick to the blacktop. Both Ray’s chair and Wesley’s wagon now left thin tracks in the snow, as did all of our shoes and boots. If anyone besides the undead were following us, we were leaving a very distinctive and e
asy trail.

  Araceli had now taken over pushing Ray and Brenda had spelled Wesley with the wagon. The little Red Ryder had come in handy; with the exception of Al and myself, the wagon now carried the rest of the group’s heavy back packs.

  We’d lost a little ground and put distance between us and the rest of our group when Cody suddenly stopped. At first I thought he heard something, and I gripped my splitting maul tighter within my gloved hands. Ahead of us, Justin paused, waiting to see if we needed assistance. When Cody started to piss in the snow, I gave Justin the hand signal to keep moving forward.

  After reliving his bladder, the dog started to whine and turn in circles. Ray had to keep lifting the leash so the dog wouldn’t get tangled in it. Finally, as if he realized he wasn’t going to be let off his leash, he squatted beside the wheelchair and moved his bowels.

  “Jesus Christ, Cody,” Ray said, recoiling from the pungent aroma. “A little warning before you drop load.”

  Wesley laughed, amused by Ray’s comments and soon we all found ourselves laughing when Al asked, “You gonna pick that up, Ray?”

  “Fuck off,” Ray said. He gripped the wheels of his chair and started to pull himself forward. Cody trotted, keeping pace with his master.

  I gave the signal for everyone to get moving again. Albert took up a post behind Ray’s chair. After scanning the surrounding area to make sure we weren’t being pursued by the flesh-craving creatures, I hitched the SKS to a more comfortable position on my shoulder and started walking.

  “Let’s pick up the pace, folks,” I said. “We have some extra ground to cover, thanks to Cody.”

  The dog turned to me when he heard his name and then looked ahead again. The flurries caused by the wind pushed flakes into my face and neck. Again, I became aware of the cold. I was sure everyone else was feeling much the same. We’d need to make it to shelter soon, before nightfall.