Haven From Hell: Surviving The Zombie Apocalypse

by Won, Mark

  “Everybody get in your cars! Move!” I shot a few of the nearest in the head, just for the heck of it. There were so many it didn’t really matter. Everybody ran.

  I got back in and drove along the forest road. They were constantly cutting us off and I couldn’t figure out how. All those zombies must have come from some city somewhere. Obviously we were driving faster than they could shamble so they must have been out and about since before we had begun our exodus. All I could think was that they had been here first and we’d driven into their midst. I told Sue to get on the radio and tell everyone to follow close. I took the next right turn, south. We traveled on for a while, staying ahead of them.

  I had to go fairly slow. The ‘road’ I had turned onto was a crappy, narrow, pothole with delusions of grandeur. A one lane track. I called on the radio to see what our order was. After traveling about five miles without any zombie sightings I had everyone stop so I could go back to the rear vehicle. I wanted to be there to act as a rear guard, if necessary.

  Eventually the road turned into dirt. It’s hard to explain if you’ve never seen that kind of thing. The pavement just sort of stopped like somebody forgot what they were doing. All that was left was dirt. Like some kind of dirt track through the trees. It was something out of a fantasy story. Totally weird.

  Anyway, we had no choice but to keep going. I just hoped that dirt path turned back into actual road soon. But it didn’t. In fact I got a call from Sue that the dirt path had dead ended up ahead, at a lake.

  So I jogged back to front to see what, if anything, we could do about it. The lake wasn’t exactly lake Michigan but it was packed with trees all along the bank. There was no way around and no road on the other side that I could see. Then I heard some splashing and laughing coming from around a bend in the lake. Who could laugh at a time like this? I put down my rifle and went to find out.

  I waded out and around until I could see a little Wisconsinite family playing in the shallows opposite me. A mom and two little kids plus a monstrous hulk of a farm boy. He was taller than some and thicker and more full of muscle than anyone I’d ever seen, like an Olympic weight lifter on steroids. I had no problem understanding how anyone around him had survived. I called out to him and introduced myself. He and his family got back to the shore pretty quick. The way he grabbed his shotgun left me with absolutely no doubt that he knew how to use that, too.

  He told me we were at the end of the road with no way around. Then he invited all of us back to where he and his friends were set up. Crossing the lake promised to be damn difficult, but the hulking hick, John by name, cut down some saplings and tied them together with twisted bark or some shit. Anyway, we had a raft. We used it to haul across as many supplies as we could. Then we headed out.

  Eventually we got out of that God forsaken forest and into a big open place with lots of little green plants growing, just peeking through the dirt, everywhere I looked.

  I asked John, “Is this a farm?”

  He looked at me like I was crazy and told me that it was, in fact, a farm. Then he asked me where I was from. I told him Chicago, originally. He asked what I meant by ‘originally’. I told him that I’d been born in Chicago and lived there until I was seventeen. How, after my mom died, I’d lucked out and got a job working for Mr. Ready. Mr. Ready had liked my ‘undocumented’ work on his apartments so much that he’d given me a job doing some finishing work on the silo condominiums. He’d even been nice enough to give me a ride to the silo, where I’d done the finishing work. Plumbing mostly. Then I explained how I’d basically spent the last seven years underground.

  He said, “Let me get this straight. You were born and raised in a city and spent all your time since underground. Is that right?”

  I said it was. He said that explained a lot. He also advised me to ‘watch my mouth’. I didn’t know what he meant so I asked him.

  “Just try not to break the second commandment so much. And lay off the vulgarity.”

  I didn’t know what that meant either, so I asked him.

  “Are you mocking me?” The way he said that I knew the answer better be no.

  Then he laid this gem on me: “If you can’t say something nice, then don’t say anything at all.”

  That just about blew my mind. Here this kid knew old people stuff. I asked him if he knew Major. He didn’t. I could tell by talking to him that he must have read a lot of old books. All I had was the one I’d borrowed from the library. I showed it to him.

  “That there’s a classic. You read that and you’ll know more than think you do,” he told me.

  I felt kind of proud about that but I’m not sure why. Especially since I didn’t understand him. Nobody had ever complimented me on my choice of literature before, I guess.

  We got to a big old farm house and he got us all into a barn. By then we’d collected a crowd of hicks who were nothing but questions, and I had no answers. John went off to ‘round up the men’ while we made ourselves comfortable. It was hard to not trust them. After all, he left his wife, Anna, and the kids with us while he was out.

  Eventually, with all the decision makers handy, John had me tell my story. They were all real concerned about the zombie horde we’d left behind us. They were also real curious about the place we were traveling to. It seemed that they’d been having their own trouble with hordes of zombies and were as anxious to be somewhere safe as we were.

  It took until suppertime, but by then it was decided that we’d be leaving in the morning. They apparently knew the way to the peninsula thing that Haven was located on. And if anyone could navigate the byways of the primordial forest that is Northern Wisconsin, it would be a bunch of hicks.

  Most people underestimate hicks. That’s a mistake. Those fuckers are a quiet, deadly bunch. I’m not saying they’ll sneak up behind you and slit your throat (although they could), but they will let you keep right on talking big until they put your lights out. I grew up with a lot of verbal back and forth before the fists, knives and guns came out, but you get to call a hick a motherfucker just once.

  Also, they know shit. Any one of them could have done my job back in the silo. They all know mechanics, plumbing, a little electrical, plus a bunch of other stuff about hunting and fishing. That’s in addition to growing plants. Some of them even read. I used to think Phil was book smart. After talking to a bunch of hicks I learned he was nothing special, just opinionated.

  For supper that evening we had spam and beans. Not my favorite. I learned a new religious ritual too. John asked his pastor to pray before we ate. Apparently, that’s a thing. Who knew? So I asked Larry about it. He said it’s an old custom he didn’t get into because it might seem ‘exclusive’.

  We all bedded down in the barn. The hicks assured us it would get ‘chilly’ at night so they got us a bunch of blankets and pillows. They took the women and kids inside and left the rest of us to freeze until morning. Chilly my ass. Wisconsin is a frozen fucking wasteland anytime but high summer.

  Come morning we got served a giant breakfast of spam and beans, same as supper the day before. More praying. I missed the rations we’d left behind, already.

  John got a bunch of his fellow farmers together. Before we did anything, the farmer’s preacher, Reverend Ert, assembled everyone and we had a religious ‘service’. There was praying and singing and some folks got a piece of bread and a drink of wine. Then Ert asked if anyone wanted to be baptized who hadn’t already been baptized. A few of my people looked over to Larry but nobody wanted to get wet. When it was over I asked John what the big deal was. He said that since we were all going on a dangerous journey, it would be a good idea to pray for help and ‘gather in all the spiritual strengthening possible’. That sounded a little like magic to me, so I decided to ask Jerry more about it later.

  All those farmers had assembled to help us get our stuff back, so we all trudged back to the lake. Someone even went and got a rowboat and rowed it there. No offense to John’s Fred Flintstone version of a ra
ft, but that made getting all the stuff a lot easier.

  After that, everything got loaded into a bunch of cars and we drove by a bunch of farms. Eventually, we came to a dilapidated bridge with a couple of big trucks crashed on it. There was another little bridge underneath and off to one side, one made out of canoes and random boards, and that was the only way across. So we unloaded everything, took it all across the river, and loaded it all on a bunch of cars on the other side. What a job. I hadn’t done so much work in my entire life! That John fellow did his share with a shotgun strapped to his back and a giant ax in one hand.

  To me, one of the weirdest things was all the dogs and cats we were taking. I never grew up with a pet but those guys all had two or three. It was shaping up to be like some kind of mobile petting zoo. I got the impression that they would have taken a couple of pigs or a cow along if they could have figured out how to fit them in the cars. I was gratified when the larger animals were just released onto the farms and left to fend for themselves. All we needed was a bunch of cattle trailers (that was the first I’d ever heard of such a thing) slowing us down. Those farmer types actually planned on going back to get their farm animals once they were sure of the way to Haven. Crazy!

  We moved out, careful to stay on the most remote roads. We never had to backtrack once because of a multi-car pile up. I had to give the farmers credit for that, they really knew all the most indirect and time consuming routs.

  With all of our radios we were able to stay in constant contact with one another. The whole operation was starting to feel real professional, until we came around one of those forested bends, only to find the road choked with the walking dead.

  I took up my M-16 and started trying for head shots while John opened up with his primitive pump shotgun. Larry was screaming for everyone to move in reverse. Just then a bunch of ghouls broke from the pack and charged. All those farmers with their shotguns cut the ghouls legs out from under them. Then they went for the head shots.

  My little band of shooters was down to just Sue, Robert, Donald and I but we did our best. Eventually the cars started to reverse and we all got back on board. A convoy of dozens of cars all moving in reverse is a stupid thing in action. I would have been embarrassed if our lives hadn’t been on the line.

  After we’d traveled for less than a mile, we backed into another group of those rotting fucks. It looked like we were done for.

  The zombies behind were about a hundred yards away, the ones in front about half again as much. John started yelling at everyone to get on top of the cars. Preacher Ert boomed out orders for the kids to climb the trees. That seemed like a good idea so I told Joey, Lucy, Boris and Stardimple to do the same. I made Sue follow them to help. I had no idea how to climb a tree. Although I’d heard of it, I’d never had occasion to try it myself.

  I had Phil, Bill, and Judy use their cars to block off our back end while someone else did the same up front. We all opened fire but they just kept coming. Once they got up to the cars we could hardly miss, but the horde was endless. Good for us that they couldn’t climb for shit. Still, there were just too many. Kill one and two more took his place. My last rifle clip ran dry so I grabbed my pistol and got back to work.

  That’s when things got worse. The zombies started coming in from the woods all around. We were swarmed. All of us who weren’t already up a tree or on a car, retreated to the tops of the trucks. We just kept blazing away. I saw a ghoul climbing a tree after Stardimple, stretching its bony claws toward her. I brought my pistol up and took a shot. I saw his head rock from the bullet and he fell to the earth. Lucky, lucky shot. Best ever for me.

  Then we all started to run out of ammunition. Some of the farmers ran out of bullets first, and then my pistol ran dry. Finally, no gunfire at all. Those hicks all started using farm tools. I’d wondered why they’d brought those. I drew my knife and tried to stab any that approached the tailgate. I had to use my reach and be careful not to let them grab me. Then one grabbed me anyway.

  I was hauled out of the truck. I think it was a coincidence but that’s when all the farmer ladies started screaming, too. I remember being proud of Cindy. She hadn’t made a peep. Still, my situation was grim. The one that had grabbed me let go after someone chopped his head with a machete. I was flat on my back with the zombies all around. There wasn’t much I could do except get trampled while waiting for one of the zombies to notice and make an end of me.

  That was my come to Jesus moment. That church from way back when I was a kid was real nice, but the spirituality just sort of rolled off me. At age ten my plan was to never die. Jerry was a wordy sort with a good heart. Always open to everyone, trying to reach out, but not much steel. Nothing wrong with his way, it just wasn’t for me. The new preacher the hicks had was an old time religion sort. Smart, with no give in him. He had the look of someone who wouldn’t suffer fools at all, let alone gladly. He seemed a bit unapproachable, standoffish, even hostile.

  But, then I realized all my thinking was horseshit. I was about to die. More importantly, Sue was about to die. We were all about to die. What then? Did I believe God existed? Yes. Did I understand Him? Fuck no. But as far as I could tell He was the only one offering an exit strategy. So in my mind I prayed, “Christ, we’re all gonna die. I’m sorry I fucked everything up. They say You’ve got a big plan. I hope it all works out.”

  That’s when I saw my first miracle.

  I heard some strange music that sounded like it came from heaven. I couldn’t understand a word of it, but I figured that was the end. Then a loud crash and uddenly the sky caught on fire! All the zombies that had been trampling me burst into flames and started to shuffle all over the place. One tripped over me so I stabbed it in the head.

  I got up and jumped back onto the truck bed. As I looked about, I saw an ocean of flame coming from some guy who looked to be over a hundred years old, just like something out of the Bible. Except he was standing on the back of a truck and using a flamethrower.

  He waved that wonderful, beautiful, incinerating weapon from God’s holy arsenal over our enemies like he was some kind of divinely appointed prophet. Where it touched, our enemies burned and fell. All that burning death was like a sacred scene from the burning bowels of the pits of Hell. It was the most transcendent experience of my life. A real epiphany, in living color. I knew then it was God’s plan for my life that I should get a flamethrower.

  That ancient saint cut the flame and changed his aim. Whoosh! Holy fire licked out over the other side of the road for about fifteen yards, burning every unclean thing in its path. Meanwhile, someone had found another store ammunition in the back of a pickup and all those shotguns started firing again.

  That’s when our antediluvian savior looked right at me and motioned for me to come over to him. Me! I heard the Call. That Heavenly music was coming right from him, or the sound system in his truck, anyway. Close enough for me either way.

  I jumped out of the truck I was in and ran over to him. All he said was, “Drive” but I got the idea. Once behind the wheel I slowly moved us around the knot of cars in the center of the road. Meanwhile, that guardian angel in the back kept giving them hell with the fire of heaven.

  That’s when the zombies started to retreat. I couldn’t believe it. They fell back before the flames. The fire was more than they could take. Not for long though. Once the fire died down some, they started stumbling back toward us. So our hallowed hero opened fire with that flamethrower all over again.

  He started shouting, “This ain’t gonna last forever, ya know!”

  John took his point and started getting people organized. With everybody giving covering fire John ran into the trees. He used his ax to bash in a few zombie skulls while all the kids climbed down and got into our remaining cars.

  Because so many of the zombies had been clustered around our vehicles most of the cars had been caught by the flamethrower. Our deliverer had been pretty liberal with its usage. Also, he’d had to smash through some of the burni
ng wreaks just to reach us. We only had the tight knot of vehicles left in the center of our arrangement. The rest were burning or smashed. One even exploded, spraying fire everywhere. It was beautiful. We would just have to make do with what we had.

  Everyone piled in and someone called us a bunch clown cars (whatever that means). Our supplies were strewn all over the road. A total waste but worth it. We made room.

  Everybody got going back the way we’d come, leaving the horde well behind us. I looked over at an old time CD case. It read ‘Handel’s Messiah’. I guessed that was the music playing. Crazy stuff. After about a half mile the ancient pounded on the back panel and told me to pull over. He had me move over so he could drive. “What’s your name, son?” he asked.

  I was shaken to the very core of my being. Could this man, this angel of mercy, possibly be my father? Then I realized he was just using a figure of speech. Two miracles in one day would be a bit much.

  “Luke,” I replied. “Thanks, man. You saved my wife’s life back there. Who are you?”

  “My name’s Matthew. You’re all welcome to stay at my place until help arrives.”

  “What help?” There was help?

  “I’ll give a new place called Haven a call as soon as I get my antenna fixed. I’m sure they’ll send a bus in a few days. Then I expect you’ll all want to rejoin civilization.”

  “Hey, I talked with them too! Small world, huh?”

  He said, “It sure is, son. Though, I’m pretty sure they’ve put the call out far and wide. I’ve been given to understand that everyone who hopped on a boat in the great lakes area is there already, trying to make a go of it.” He took his radio from the dash and started calling the other cars, giving directions to his home.

  “How did you know we needed rescuing?” I wondered if God told him.

  “I was up trying to fix my radio antenna when I saw all your cars. I got my glasses out and could see you were headed right into a hot mess. Zombies in front of you with more closing in on all sides. I would have called but you were out of range of my mobile.” He motioned to his radio to indicate what he meant by ‘mobile’.