We lurched forward and started to inch ahead. I just stared at the people in the now dead, unsafe, station wagon. I’m sorry. We started to gain some momentum and Bang! Another big bounce and the entire Winnie swished from side to side. Everything stored in the cupboards was liberated; equipment, food, ammo, and water were everywhere. I found the shotgun and struggled to my feet. We had managed to cross the road and were now traveling in the opposite direction, half on, half off the shoulder. Paul was the only one still shooting. The view out my window was horrible. Roy had amped up the level of havoc and cleared us a lane. Cars were turned sideways, some with smoke pouring from the engines. A few had been pinned so tightly they couldn’t open their doors. People stood in the road just looking at us. Three guys had rifles with scopes, but didn’t do anything. What were we becoming? I felt like shit, but this was just me trying to avoid the inevitable truth that we did what we had to do to stay alive, and it can only get worse.
We were the only group heading back. About two agonizingly slow miles up the road, we came to a stop. I moved from the back over behind Terrance. Hammer had left the Hummer and was working on some chains around a green metal tubular gate in the middle of a nicely maintained stonewall. A dirt road crossed a large open green field, disappearing in a grove of large trees about a quarter of a mile away. There were cows in the field. Where the hell are we going? Hammer threw open the gate and we were soon moving forward, down the dirt road. As soon as we passed the gate, the Winnie stopped and Mary turned.
“Hey, John, Roy wants you to secure the gate.”
“What?”
“You need to close and secure the gate. We will cover you.”
“What?”
Liz was already at the rear shooting slot and nodded her head. “John, close the damn gate.”
This bites! Why me? No, really, this fucking sucks! So much for showing fucking initiative and leadership. All right, be cool. We’re fully loaded and the safety is off!
“Paul, cover me! I have to close the gate!” I tried to sound confident, but my voice reverted to that of a thirteen year old.
“Ten-four!” He yelled back. “I got your twenty.” I opened the door and cautiously stepped out. Got your twenty? What the hell did that mean?
It was bright outside and it took a second for my eyes to adjust. Yep, just like this morning, only better and hotter. Inside the Winnie, it was broiling, and the light breeze felt great. With my shotgun at the ready, I made my way toward the wide-open gate. People in their cars looked at me but no one made any effort to get out or even roll the windows down. I shoved the gate closed and tried not to look or think about them. I put my shotgun down, wrapped the chain through iron loops on the gate and end post, and I was trying to tie the ends into a knot when Paul fired. Oh, shit! I had no choice but to concentrate on tying the chain, putting all my faith in Paul, no choice since in opening the gate, Hammer cut the lock. I was almost there when he switched to full automatic. My faith was now shaken. My hands were not moving fast or as coordinated as I wanted them to. I needed to breathe and relax, but couldn’t. Sweat dripped across my glasses. Faith failed completely when Liz started firing from the back of the Winnie. Her pistols made this sharp barking noise. I looked up to see a tall thin dude about twenty feet from me. His body was shaking as Paul ripped him apart. Behind the tall guy were three more zombies. I refocused and finished what I hoped was something that would require a fully functional brain to undo, and grabbed the shotgun. I could see two more making their way through the tangle of cars coming straight at me. One was moving so fast she actually did a hood slide, the kind I used to marvel at while watching the old Starsky and Hutch TV series. Paul had stopped firing and I guessed he was out of ammo. I could hear him yelling. Liz had stopped too. I was more than likely in her way, but now I was ready. The first was an older male screaming at the top of his lungs, and so concentrated on me that he ran straight into the gate and bounced to the ground. Keeping the butt tight to my shoulder, I fired and blew the top of his head off. Three. The second was the young woman in a blue tank top and jeans, the one who had done the great hood slide. I could tell from her pace that she clearly saw the gate and had other plans to get to me. The gate was maybe four feet high and she easily cleared it like someone running a steeplechase. I caught her just as she landed, the force of the blast sending her cart wheeling away from me and ending up as this twisted jerking mass lying in the grass. I walked up and put a round through her head at point blank range. Four. As I reloaded, I scanned the road and did not see more coming, but they would be. Okay, Roy, what’s next?
“Hey, John!” It was Paul from the top of the Winnie.
“Roy wants you to stop screwing around and get back inside. We need to move.” Screwing around? We were already moving when I jumped in.
“Nice work. We’re going to move on beyond those trees and evaluate the situation.” Mary had a map out and she was obviously trying to guess where in God’s name we were.
As we moved forward, I reloaded and kept tabs on our rear. More zombies did arrive, but so did about half dozen desperate humans who had decided at the last second to risk all and try to follow us. They more than kept the incoming zombies busy. Two of the undead did see us and managed to cross over. Paul took care of them, and in half minute, we had created enough distance that the heavily packed road became more of a distraction than we were.
As I had half expected, the dirt road led to your classic New England farmhouse, complete with a large barn, chicken coops, barking dogs, and an old guy on the porch swing with a double barrel shotgun. Roy radioed for us to stay in our vehicles and he would deal with this. I could see him walk up to the porch, unarmed, and remove his well-seasoned Red Sox baseball cap. In the short time, I have known him, I don't think I have ever seen him without the cap. Huh, he’s going bald. They talked for a while and made several gestures toward the barn. Ten minutes later, they shook hands and Roy walked back to the Hummer. The radio crackled.
“Okay, listen up. The old guy is Samuel, and his wife, Nancy. They seem like nice people. They don’t have cable or TV, but they have been listening to the radio and got a good clue what is happening. He will let us stay in the barn for tonight at least. We will give them some food and leave them alone. I have asked them to join us, but we shall see. Obviously, we have some changes in our plans and we can discuss this as a group later. Winnie One, I want you in the barn, all the way in. You’re leaking something. Winnie Two, you are going to get nice and cozy with the barn door. I want you to partially block the door, just give us enough room to get out of the barn. Make sure your door is on the barn side so you can get into her. Everybody understand?”
“Roger that.” It was Mary. Cool, calm, and collected.
“The Hummer is staying outside, but out of sight. Let’s keep noise and activity to a minimum! Something as simple as accidentally hitting the horn or grinding the gears and we’re toast.” Part of me was thinking ‘no shit, Sherlock’ and part going ‘Okay, be quiet, remember be quiet.’ Well, I guess this is home for now. I didn’t really expect to make it to the boats in one day. No, that’s not true. I fully expected to make it in one day, with all the back roads, it had to be thirty miles tops. I just anticipated the traffic to be something like crossing the Cape Cod bridges at the end of a summer holiday, slow, but you get there. I just did not add batshit crazy desperate panic to the equation. At least, we’re out of sight and some decent distance from the road. With the distractions of the other vehicles and the gate secured against wanderers, we might have a reasonable hiding place for a little while.
“Winnie Two. Mary, tell John to get ready to start a sweep with me. Let Liz or Jane take the turret with the hunting rifle. Paul is going to check out Winnie One. Anybody think they can help him, just speak up. Hammer will set a defensive detail. Mary, grab whoever you need and get us something to eat, cold may have to do. I want Zack up in the loft with binoculars and a radio to keep an eye on things.”
�
�Roger dodger, Roy,” she turned to me.
“Okay, gang, you heard him. John, please let Paul know.”
It was now clear that Robert, Doc, Roy and I, were the appointed ones when it came to EVAs. I felt better that there would be four of us and we had not spotted a zombie since I closed the gate. I knew Roy was drop dead serious and I wanted to stay close to Robert, but Doc? Well, we will see. I made sure the Ruger and shotgun were ready to go. Roy didn’t even know me, but it made me feel special that I had been chosen to be on the first line of defense, like I was some badass Green Beret. I guessed now was not the right time to inform him that today was the first time I had fired a shotgun in at least two decades, and my shoulder hurt.
“Things look clear so far, so let’s keep everything as low-key as possible; no banging shit and for God’s sake, don’t shoot unless you have to.” Mary was definitely Winnie Two’s leader and I liked her. She helped me feel comfortable. I opened the door and looked around. Wow, what a place. A two story classic white farm house, porch with swing and surrounded by ancient trees, very Norman P Rockwell! Two big old black Labs came over to say hi, tails waging. I was happy to see they were not on alert and seemed friendly. They would come in handy, as an extra alarm should anything unwanted come our way. Wait a minute, how do dogs deal with the undead? I never saw anything on YouTube or the topic come up in any of the Plague/Zombie blogs I followed. I knelt down and hugged the two large goofy dogs. Oh, my God, that felt good. Dogs! Would we also lose dogs? I stood and stared at them. The two just sat there and stared back with a totally blissed-out ‘cool more people to play with’ attitude. I remembered as a child, being just like these two beautiful dogs, and I thought I was getting some of that back while being around Liz. I don’t imagine I will be feeling anything close to bliss for a long, long time.
I sauntered over to Robert, Doc, and Roy. I had to get rid of this black cloud. After hours of insane claustrophobic tension, it was good to have things ratchet down a notch or two. Roy looked around nervously.
“Okay, Jane, I want you to stay in the turret and make sure those binoculars never leave your eyes. We will do this in shifts, but for now, plan on staying a while. Can you give me an hour or two?”
“Ten-four!” I almost thought Jane was going to salute, but she just turned, giggled, and adjusted herself in the turret. Jane is cool.
“Nobody wanted this, but here we are. John, you're with me.” What? He turned to Doc and Robert. “You guys go and check our rear. Let’s see how fucked we are and if there’s another way out of here.”
As Roy and I walked around the barn, I noticed that the trees, which screened the farm from the road, actually formed an effective barrier. A small stream ran among them and over the years, had eroded a fairly deep ditch. Combined with various bushes, shrubs, and thorns, it made an impregnable fence between the fields and the farmhouse. Impregnable to cows, that is. The undead would be slowed down considerably and certainly make a lot of noise, but if they saw or heard us, they would get through. We crossed the yard to the road we came in on. A small bridge with a cowcatcher (just a series of parallel bars at the start of the bridge that discourage cows from crossing) spanned the creek. As far as I could tell, this was the only clear way in. We stayed out of sight, close to the trees. In the distance, I could hear car horns and alarms, and an occasional gunshot.
“Okay, John, when the gate falls, I want you right here. Yeah, I know, but it will fall and this bridge is the cork blocking the path of least resistance. Maybe a minute from now or never, okay? You did well at the gate, and I trust you will do the same here.” He looked at the ground. The weight of it all was just so evident. Not just his wife and the apocalypse, it had to bug him that I was with his ex. In many ways, Roy wanted this to happen. Hey, maybe I thought survival would be cool too, no responsibilities other than protect the ones you love. Now, I think we both want our money back. “They will have help, but you got this one small corridor and you're on the wall. Kind of like the Alamo.”
“No problem, Roy, I'll be here.” As opposed to where else can I go? The Alamo? Did he really say the Alamo? Sometimes, I need to know when to shut up.
“You know, some guys surrendered at the Alamo, not that they was facing un-mortal Mexicans and shit.” Now, why did I have to bust his balls? The day was total crap on all of us. I was treating Roy as if he was the only one with any culpability. It was like some kind of drive-by-shooting with only the guy who fired the gun having any guilt. Did I really say ‘they was facing’?
He turned and stared at me. “You let me know how the whole surrendering thing works out, okay?”
“Probably about as well as it did for the Alamo guys,” I said under my breath as we turned to the tree line. We walked/crept away in silence and cautiously entered the trees. Roy didn’t say anything for a while and seemed to be deep in thought.
“Do you have an issue with what happened today?” It was more of a sigh than a question.
“Yeah, I do.”
We crossed the stream in silence, scrambling up the steep sandy slope and gained the edge where the trees met the field. The wind shifted and you could hear moaning from the road, kind of like a distant dull roar. Roy got on one knee and spent a good bit of time just looking through his binoculars. I tried to be as still as the trees around me. The littlest thing might send a zombie our way. If one went, how many others would follow? Our one advantage was the sun. It was past zenith and it was reflecting off of all the metal and glass of the cars. It started to make the road glisten and shine. I thought of the yellow brick road, and then my mind instantly jumped to the Elton John song: “When are you gonna come down? When are you going to land?” The enormity of the day was sinking in. I heard Roy move.
“Stay out of sight. Tell me what you see.”
He handed me the binoculars. I crawled closer to get a clear view, adjusted the focus, and scanned the road. Fuck! You could tell by the way that the things moved that they were not the living. They were just way too fast and chaotic, with no discernible purpose. From this distance and glare, it was hard to make out details, just lots of activity. I thought for a second of the old Pied Piper story. Maybe we could find a means of herding them down to the sea, and end all of this.
“What I see is a hopeless situation. There is nothing we could have done. I don't blame you, Roy. I don't blame anyone. I guess if there is blame to give, it's to God. The living has nothing to do with this.” I handed him back the binoculars, knowing full well that the last statement was probably a lie.
We made our way back and found Doc and Robert crossing the large plowed field that was directly behind the barn.
Doc, a tall lanky middle-aged man with a crazy mustache and six shooters, yes, real gunslinger guns, on both hips waved all clear. I had seen him talking with Roy, Hammer, and some other guys yesterday. They were hunched over a bunch of maps and photos with a few taking notes, so I guess he was part of the original group.
“Roy, the field looks to be at least ten acres in size. Small, dense woods on two sides, pretty much east and west.” He used his hands to draw an invisible map in the air. “We couldn’t see through, but my guess is more fields. This farmhouse and barn are our southern boundary and a stonewall to the north. This service road we are standing on hugs the edge of these trees and then the stonewall. It leads to a closed gate that opens on to a gravel road.”
“Thanks, Doc. Robert?”
“Roy, our scenic route is fucked, you know that. We both know that we have shit the Golden Fleece with finding this farm. We have to leave out the back and figure a way around this mess. So for the time being, it looks like we have a somewhat secure compound. We stay out of sight and sound, maybe we get a clear day or two.” Robert muttered the last part under his breath.
“But better than a poke in the eye with a sharp stick.” Roy sounded tired and I hoped this signaled the end of recon. We all needed rest, Roy in particular.
“Okay, back to the barn and another group me
eting. Either way, we are here tonight. I want all of you thinking about the best way to get us to dawn.” We trudged off to the barn. I half notice that only Robert and I maintained a constant state of alertness, arms at the ready, and looking for threats.
We entered to the sound of Paul yelling at the crew working on Winnie One. “Please find the damn oil plug! Maybe I could just put a damn piece of cloth in it. If I had one!” Paul was under Winnie One periodically banging on something and swearing to himself.
From out of the shadows, a huge figure emerged. “Paul, shut the fuck up.” hissed Hammer. “We are ALL in God damn stealth mode!” He went over to Winnie two and looked around. “Okay, Winnie Two crew, over here, now.” The group gathered around.
“The only way this place offers any kind of protection is if they don’t notice us! That means no movement, no sound, and no light. We are behind enemy lines. I want all of you to keep repeating that! We are behind enemy lines, what will I do to give away our position?” His eyes were methodically moving from face to face so that everyone got the message. “With Winnie One out of service, we cannot afford a fight in daylight, let alone at two in the morning. This is the way it is, folks. Number two gets the shaft. You go in shifts of two hours with three together at all times, and I mean together! Somebody in the turret, back window, and front seat. We don’t know what these things do at night, so no fucking around with flashlights or casually firing up to get a smoke. The rest need to find someplace that’s comfortable. If you snore, then you are SOL when it comes to sleeping tonight. Winnie One doing breakfast. Find whoever is holding on to the good night vision goggles and make sure they end up in the turret. Roy, Robert, and I, will take turns up in the loft with night vision. If you see or sense anything, you wake someone and send them to us. We’ll decide what course of action to take. We eat now. If anyone has a problem, you bring it up with Roy, got it?” No one said a word. “Oh.” and he vaguely pointed to some area inside the dark barn. “I have piled up some hay bales over in the corner. That’s our head. I don’t want anyone wondering outside wanting to do their business.” He smiled. “Don’t worry, there’s a bucket.” It was clearly now Hammer Time. As the group broke-up, I went over to Hammer.
Brutal Planet: A Zombie Novel Page 16
