by David Bourne
“Well, you seem to have solved the drink problem yourself,” Scott observed.
Even if this guy had saved his life, Ray didn’t like being preached at. “There is even a sip left for you,” he said with a drunken grin and held out the almost completely empty bottle to Scott.
Scott ignored his remark and gesture, looking instead at the switched-on computer monitor.
“Listen,” Ray said, “I don’t expect you to understand why I acted this way.” His aching skull was being hammered like crazy and he forced the words out of his mouth. “I crash-landed with a plane and haven’t received any sign of life from my ex-wife and my children for days. I used the computer here to try and reach someone, as the internet still seems to be working. When I didn’t succeed, I was so desperate that I got drunk. I admit this wasn’t the smartest idea at the time, but I thought I would be safe in here.”
Scott was amazed the man could speak in complete sentences, considering that he had consumed almost two full liter bottles of whiskey.
“I think your explanation is as good as any,” Scott answered. “But I’m almost glad to disappoint you, because someone has replied to one of your emails.”
“Holy shit,” Ray stammered and tried to get up on his feet. After one or two failed attempts, Scott pulled him up. When he was sure Ray could stand on his feet, he let go of him. Ray went over to the Computer, which was still on. He had indeed received a reply, though not the one he had hoped for. On the monitor, a message by Gregory—Chris’ brother— appeared. Ray opened it and read it:
Chris, you won’t believe how happy I am to hear from you. I tried to reach mom, but I haven’t heard anything from her. Now listen, little brother, I don’t have time for details, as several people here want to send messages. Try to make your way to Fort Weeks. That is an army base, and things still look pretty good here. There are soldiers, there is medicine and we have means of communication. A large number of survivors are here, so try to get here as well. Take care. Gregory
“He’ll be happy about this,” Ray said, more to himself.
“Excuse me?” Scott replied.
“I’m sorry I was being rude to you, Mister...?”
Ray held out his hand to Scott.
“My name is Scott Gerber. Just call me Scott, and I’m sorry for slapping you.”
“No need to apologize, Scott. I’m Ray Thompson, and I would’ve done the same.”
Both men shook hands. “What brings you to this sleepy burg, Scott? I assume that you didn’t come here intending to save the ass of a drunken bastard like me, did you?”
Scott just had to grin at this. He couldn’t help but feel a certain sympathy for Ray. After all, he also hadn’t heard from his own family since chaos had broken out.
“Actually, I was looking for food. I wouldn’t have dreamed that the TV stations are still broadcasting.”
“Some really major shit is happening here.”
Then Scott told Ray what had happened to him so far, about his neighbor and the town of Augusta–which by now was probably completely overrun by the undead beasts. He also mentioned his search for his family, which so far, had been unsuccessful. The only part of his story he changed from what actually occurred was the part about his parents. He told Ray that he found them dead in their home, and he decided to stay with that version. After all, it didn’t make a difference anymore.
Ray could tell how Scott was emotionally touched by his story. The tragic fact that Augusta had completely succumbed to the virus clearly shocked him. Then he told Scott what he himself had experienced, and when he got to the part about the crash landing, Scott’s eyes widened. Ray told him about their place of refuge in the woods and about the injured people there. Finally, he mentioned that Chris should be returning soon to pick him up. He even let him read the email from Chris’ brother.
“And I thought I was the only one who had experienced a hell of a trip,” Scott said.
“I think many people have this problem right now. What do you think about that army base?”
“Currently, I think we have few straws we can grasp. It also says that many survivors are sheltered there. This is the best news I’ve heard in a while.”
“I feel pretty much the same way, and I would be glad if you could come with us. If we show this message to the others at Chris’ cabin, I’m sure that Fort Weeks will be our next destination.”
Scott was relieved to be among other people again. At least he now had a plan and a specific goal, and he agreed to accompany Ray. The two men sent an email to Scott’s wife Jane. Scott hoped he would soon receive a reply from her, but there was none. Since the email from Chris’ brother mentioned that many people had to share the few computers available at Fort Weeks, Scott’s initial hope had been rather optimistic. Since Ray didn’t know exactly when Chris would return, the two of them started gathering some supplies. Scott appeased his hunger with some canned sausages. He thought for a moment and realized that in the future, getting enough vitamins might be difficult, so he began to look for fresh fruit, as he put some oranges in his pocket and ate an apple. Since the little store had no bags or backpacks they could use to fill with supplies, they concentrated on packing the small plastic shopping baskets with cans and other nonperishable food. Then they gathered all this and placed it near the store’s entrance. Ray enjoyed the work even though it made him sweat like a race horse, but he was not as intoxicated anymore as when he woke up. If Chris doesn’t come back for a while, he may not notice anything. Ray took two of the heavy shopping baskets and wanted to walk with them once he observed that Scott had stacked the remaining six ones and lifted them as if they had been filled with feathers.
Ray’s eyes became as big as airport searchlights. Scott is a bull of a man. If I ever piss him off, I’d better be inside a tank. When they couldn’t find any more empty baskets, they loaded two laundry baskets with food, cigarettes, water and medicine. Ray searched around the register and smiled.
“Hey, Scott, look what I found.” He showed him a black-handled machete, which the storeowner had obviously kept below the register to fight off potential robbers.
“Well, this might come in handy, Mr. Crocodile Dundee.”
Ray rummaged around some more and found the matching leather sheath, which he slid over the blade and attached to his belt. He was about to go to the front of the store, when he heard the sound of an engine in the distance. Sounds like Chris’ pickup.
Scott was busy taking the last cans of baked beans from a shelf, when he also heard the engine. He raised his head and looked at Ray.
“Chris is coming. Let’s finish up,” Ray said.
“I’d like nothing better. I still keep staring at the entrance like I’m waiting for another visit from our stinking friends.”
“Same here,” Ray confirmed. “It’s about time to get out of here.”
When Chris arrived, Ray left the store first to greet him, then Scott followed a few seconds later. Ray introduced his unexpected savior to Chris and told how he had helped gather the supplies. Chris shook Scott’s hand, but he also wanted to know exactly how all of this had happened. Ray felt uneasy at first, but Scott patiently described how the two zombies had surprised Ray at the computer, and then he had wandered in from the outside and rescued him. He left out the intoxication part, and Ray shot him a grateful look.
When Chris heard about the email from his brother, he got all excited. He ran directly to the computer in the back office and read it carefully. One could see the sense of relief on his face. Ray informed him of the proposed idea of choosing Fort Weeks as the destination for their group, and of course, Chris agreed to it immediately.
“Then we’re going to need a second vehicle,” he said. “My pickup isn’t large enough for everyone.”
Ray suggested he could once more check for any unread emails , while Chris and Scott looked for another car or truck. The two agreed and looked around in the village for a while as dusk was beginning to fall. Enough time to stock up
on whiskey for the next few days, Ray thought. He returned to the liquor store and after packing three liter bottles of the stuff in a backpack, he was satisfied and awarded himself a generous sip to calm his nerves.
Ray happened to look out the store window and saw something surprising. About eighty yards away, he noticed a person standing in a doorway. It was Cain Bellard, one of the four people who had recently left Chris’s house. Cain looked around nervously as he held a wrench in one hand, and then disappeared into one of the houses.
Ray didn’t t know what to do exactly, but his curiosity won out, and he wanted to find out what Cain was up to. He placed a hand on his newly acquired machete and crept towards the houses. I hope Chris and Scott won’t be back for a while.
He reached the front door of the house Cain had entered and listened for a moment. He heard nothing. Ray crept quietly into the house and pulled his machete from its sheath. He could hear noises of drawers and wardrobes being opened and closed upstairs.
It sounds like he is looking for something.
Ray walked upstairs, even though he kept asking himself why he was doing this. Suddenly he heard a scream that sounded like Cain’s voice. Ray pounded up the stairs and saw a bedroom door that was slightly open. His hand gripped the machete more firmly and he got ready. He pushed the door open with his foot and charged into the room. It appeared that it once was a large, attractive bedroom with a canopy bed in the center, but now the bed was covered in old, dried and crusted blood. An elderly man in pajamas—who had an enormous bite wound on one of his legs—was lying in the bed. His eyes were open and he uttered the usual ominous, guttural sounds that Ray knew so well. The old man’s spouse was also there, and she was on top of Cain. He obviously had not checked the condition of the corpses and was now in deep shit. Cain was struggling on the floor to the left of the bed and tried to push away the woman with his hands and feet, as she was trying to bite him. When he saw Ray, his eyes widened and he stared in disbelief at him. The dead man’s upper body jerked towards Bellard.
“Thompson, thank God! Get this thing off me!” Cain loudly pleaded in Ray’s direction. Ray looked at the man lying on the floor who imploringly stared at him. Cain wore a brand new olive-green parka which he must have taken from one of the other houses. Suddenly, Ray thought of his ex-wife and his children plus he remembered Nick and Mia and recalled the scene of the airplane crash. He also thought about Chris and Scott, both of whom had unselfishly helped him. Then he recalled Duke Powell, Pam and Danny, and how the three of them had treated him badly. Ray stood there, looked Cain Bellard in the eyes and replied drily: “Help yourself.”
Then he turned around, closed the door and walked downstairs. While he was still on the stairs, he could hear a loud scream of pain. He didn’t turn around and left the house.
Ray (24)
Ray waited in the supermarket for the other two. While he checked email accounts once more, his mind was filled by a bitter struggle between his reason and his conscience, which told him he should be ashamed. Cain hadn’t actually been such an asshole to him, but he blindly followed the other ones.
Ray tried to convince himself that Cain would have led Duke Powell directly to them—and this was the last person Ray wanted to meet again.
After a few minutes, Ray heard the sound of another vehicle’s engine. He looked out the window and strolled out of the supermarket with his machete in his hand. He breathed a sigh of relief when he saw Scott and Chris drive up in a VW Multivan. It offered quite a bit of space for supplies and people. Both men were in a good mood and appeared to have gotten along well. Ray welcomed them and told them that no new emails had arrived. He didn’t bother to mention his encounter with Cain Bellard at all. Each point lost by Duke Powell was a point gained by him. The three men quietly loaded the vehicles and then started their drive back to Chris’ house.
Josh (25)
Josh raced nonstop through the forest. After a while, his thighs began to burn like fire, but he ignored the pain and kept running through the underbrush. He didn’t know how long he had been running. Josh possessed neither extraordinary strength nor stamina, and he soon realized he wouldn’t be able to keep up this pace.
At first, he had tried to flee on the road, but the tall zombie had moved closer to him with amazing speed, so Josh instead headed for the woods. He had managed to lose him and the other undead, but he had also lost sight of the road. He didn’t know how much distance he had placed between himself and his pursuers since Josh didn’t see them anymore. However, he still heard their screams, so he forced himself to keep going.
Josh headed directly for a small hill. I got to get my bearings. When he reached the top, he saw light was falling into the dense forest. The road! He was relieved to see where the light came from—there was a military truck on the road. Lights had obviously been placed around it, and he could see several figures moving about. I actually made it! Josh sent a quick prayer heavenward and walked towards the truck. He prayed that these figures would be soldiers—actual living soldiers.
Josh (26)
“Yo, Mickey, can you see anything?” Private Mike Miller had jumped on the bed of the military truck and peered into the forest.
“No, don’t anything at all, you wuss. The damn forest is too dense anyways.”
“What was that scream? That didn’t sound like an animal.”
“The both of you—shut the fuck up! Private Miller, stay up there and report as soon as you see anything,” Private First Class Chad Petersen barked at him.
“What the fuck, Sir. Just because you are in command tonight, Chad, doesn’t mean you have to be so high and mighty. There’s nobody here except us, and they’re all back at the fucking base—except for us. Why do we have to man an outpost at night in the middle of the forest? The base has watch towers and a fucking fence, and then all this Defcon bullshit. We should be busy packing our stuff and invading somewhere, but instead, we’re lugging around stupid sand bags. That doesn’t make any sense at all,” Mike ranted.
“Fuck you—just keep your eyes open. I don’t know why we’re are supposed to be here, either. I talked to this guy Weasel from Charlie Company a while ago, and he said something about people going berserk. Then he rambled on about some fallout within the United States. If you ask me, it’s all bullshit. This is the unofficial punishment for that bar fight last week. Somehow they must’ve found out we were involved. But an order is an order. So: Carry on!”
The soldiers resumed their work. Since the evening hours began, they had been busy setting up two machine gun emplacements with sand bags next to the road.
Chad had earlier seen a plan that didn’t make any sense to him about an extended perimeter about a hundred yards outside Fort Weeks. Such a barrier would take weeks to build. Just as Chad Petersen was thinking about this, Josh emerged from the underbrush.
“CONTACT! CONTAAACT! Stop right there!” Mike yelled from the bed of the truck, as he aimed his assault rifle.
Josh stumbled and fell to his feet. “Don’t shoot. I’m Josh Pelletier, and my father is Master Sergeant Pelletier. I’m alive, but I’m being pursued!”
“I can see you’re alive, damn it. Why shouldn’t you be? Did you just mention Master Sergeant Pelletier?”
“Yes, he’s my dad.” Josh stood up and slowly walked towards the soldiers.
“Did you just scream in the forest, Sir? Come closer, but leave your hands up, where I can see them.”
Josh cast a searching glance behind him, and it appeared he had lost his pursuer. He had actually made it to the military base. I’m safe, for the time being.
The fact Josh had encountered these soldiers gave them the best pretext for ignoring their stupid tasks and accompanying this civilian directly to the base.
Chad ordered them all to get on the truck, which shortly afterwards departed in the direction of the army base.
The Group (27)
Scott got out of the vehicle he and Chris had found in Muntly, while Chris and Ray
drove up to the house with the pickup. It was the middle of the night, and the three men were dog-tired; no wonder, after all the events of the last few days. Yet, in spite of their fatigue, they unloaded the vehicles with the help of the others, who early on had noticed the two vehicles arriving.
Phil stood watch at the front door with his pitchfork, and he was extremely glad to see Chris and Ray. He glanced rather skeptically at Scott, though.
“This young, good-looking man is definitely a friend,” Ray assured him.
Ray’s verification was enough for Phil, and he shook Scott’s hand. As he watched Scott assist with the unloading, Phil grew even more pleased about his presence; only a forklift could have emptied the vehicles more rapidly! Since it was so late, Ray didn’t want to wake the other survivors in order to introduce Scott, and he was sure this could wait until tomorrow morning. He lay down next to Cathy on the sofa bed and immediately fell asleep. Cathy sensed that Ray was completely exhausted and cuddled up to him.
Chris showed Scott an available place to sleep and gave him a thick wool blanket. He stoked the fire in the fire place before he himself went to bed. Scott also instantly fell asleep and except for his contented snoring, the entire house grew quiet.
Chris was the first of the adults to wake up the next morning, though it was not completely voluntary as Phil’s kids made quite a racket. Nevertheless, Chris felt refreshed and was ready to make some plans. He woke Scott with some freshly brewed coffee, and then he introduced his giant of a new friend to the rest of the random community. All of them were relieved to have an additional reinforcement in the house—and Scott Gerber definitely embodied reinforcement.
Cathy was also already awake making breakfast and was busy rationing the supplies that had been brought back. She decided to let her former captain sleep in so he could regain his strength.
