The Reckoning - 02

by D. A. Roberts

  Of the two in the back, one was unconscious and the other was stuck in his seatbelt. When he saw me, he frantically tried to grab his rifle, but it was too far away for him to reach. I aimed at his head and he froze with his eyes wide in terror. I’m pretty sure he saw his death reflected in my eyes. The rage in my veins was so strong, I could barely contain it.

  “You don’t need to kill me, mister,” he said. “I didn’t do nothin’ to you.”

  “Really?” I asked, venom dripping.

  “You can have anything we got,” he pleaded. “We ain’t your enemy.”

  “Oh, yes you are,” I said, calmly. “I was in the van you attacked back in Jamesville.”

  His eyes grew wide and he started crying.

  “M..m…mister,” he stammered. “P..p..please….”

  I shot him in the forehead, killing him instantly. I didn’t wait for the other one to regain consciousness. I shot him in the head, too. I put one into the guy with the broken neck, just to be safe. Then I searched the vehicle. They each had a rifle, pistol, and a knife. There was a case of water, but no food. One bag of ammo was all they had with them. I was pretty sure I’d taken out a raiding party.

  Of the four rifles, three were bolt-action deer rifles with scopes. The fourth was a military grade M-4 with an ACOG[3]. I figured that they had found it on a dead national guardsman. The pistols were all 9mm’s. Two Browning Hi-power pistols, one Glock 19 and one military issue M-9 Beretta.

  I tossed all of the guns except the M-4 in my range bag along with the ammo. It added to my weight, but I didn’t care at this point. I refused to leave it for their group to find. Even if I just dumped them all in the woods, I’d be damned if I’d leave them for those assholes. I swapped out my AR-15 for the M-4. They fired the same round, but the M-4 could go full auto. I checked the M-4’s load and adjusted the collapsible stock to fit me. The AR went into the bag.

  I drank down two bottles of water and poured three bottles into a hubcap for Odin to drink. He lapped it up with enthusiasm. Then I loaded as much water as I felt I could carry into the bag. Once I put my pack back on, I realized I’d added at least another thirty pounds to my back. Grumbling, I moved off towards the trees.

  I gave two bottles of water to Gunny. He downed the first in one long pull, and then sipped the second one. I gave him a few minutes to recover before I said anything.

  “Gunny,” I said, softly. “We’ve got to get the hell out of here. If they come looking for their missing men, they’ll find us for sure.”

  “I know,” he said. “I’m ok. Let’s get moving.”

  He got to his feet, a little easier than the last time. His color looked better, but he still leaned heavily on the walking stick. I knew that he had to be in a lot of pain, but he took it like a Marine. Once on his feet, he headed off into the trees. We were going to walk parallel to the road until we found a place that we might bed down for the night.

  My knees were killing me before we’d gone half a mile. I was going to have to lighten my load, plain and simple. We cut across a field and headed towards a barn. We kept our pace steady but slow, and watched for zombies. We stayed clear of the farmhouse, but kept an eye on it. When we reached the barn, I found a feed bin and opened it.

  I had to toss a few bags of feed out, but I made room for the guns I was leaving behind. I unloaded all of the deer rifles and the ammo for them. Then I unloaded the sawed off shotgun and put it inside, pocketing the two rounds. The pistols weren’t of any significant weight, so I left them all in my pack. I even unloaded and tossed the AR-15 in the bin. I was keeping all of the shotgun and 5.56mm ammo.

  I shut the bin and sat the bags of grain on top of it, to keep it closed. I wasn’t planning on returning for them, but there was no sense leaving them on the ground to rot, either. If another survivor happened across them, I only hoped that it wasn’t one of those assholes from town.

  With my pack much lighter, we headed off towards the farmhouse. The sun was getting low in the sky and it looked to be as good a place as any to take shelter for the night. As long as it wasn’t crawling with zombies, that is. We approached with caution.

  As we reached the backyard, I saw movement to my left. There was a storm cellar behind the house and two zombies were trying to beat down the door. One was an older man in his sixties and the other was a younger man in his thirties. Both were chewed up pretty badly. I briefly considered using the hammer on them, but I was just too damned tired. I flipped the M-4 from safe to semi-auto and shot them both in the head with two quick shots. Then I listened.

  I didn’t hear any zombies approaching, so I headed for the door to the storm shelter. I discovered that this was no ordinary storm shelter. It was a modern steel-reinforced concrete tornado bunker with a steel door. I wasn’t getting into it without explosives, if it was locked. If it wasn’t locked, I’d just found the perfect place to sleep safe for the night.

  I moved up to the door and tried the handle. As if to mock me, it was locked tight. I briefly considered trying to break the lock with the hammer, but decided I’d have an easier time trying to dig a foxhole in concrete with a plastic spoon. I was about to walk away when I saw movement in the little circular window. It was only there for a second, but I was sure I saw it.

  “Is there someone in there?” I asked.

  “What do you want?” I heard a female voice ask.

  “I’m not looking for trouble, ma’am,” I said. “I’m just looking for a place to hold up for the night.”

  “Try the barn,” she replied.

  I had to chuckle at that. I couldn’t blame her for not opening the door. In fact, I commended her for it. I knew damned good and well the type of people that were wandering around in this world gone mad. You couldn’t afford to trust strangers, unless you had the upper hand. Well, maybe not even then.

  “I understand,” I replied. “I’ll move on. If you’re interested, I left some guns and ammo in the feed bin in your barn. I couldn’t carry them all and they might as well go to good use.”

  “Is that your dog, mister,” she asked.

  “Yes, ma’am,” I replied. “I have a friend with me, too. He’s been shot.”

  “Who are you?”

  “My name’s Wylie Grant,” I replied. “I’m with the Nathanael County Sheriff’s Office.”

  “You’re a cop?” she asked, surprised.

  “Yes ma’am,” I said, not feeling like explaining the difference between Corrections and Patrol.

  “Can I see your badge?” she asked.

  I held up my badge to the window, and then took out my department ID from my wallet and held it up, too.

  “How’s that?”

  As an answer, I heard the door locks opening. Seconds later, she pushed the door open. Standing before me was a girl who looked to be about nineteen years old. She was about 5’10” and slim, but had nice curves. She didn’t look like she’d been going hungry. Her long blonde hair was pulled back into a pony-tail and her eyes were bottle green.

  “Come on inside,” she said, “and hurry.”

  I motioned for Gunny to come on over. He shuffled down the stairs and stopped behind me. Odin slipped past her and into the shelter. I helped Gunny inside and into a nearby chair. It was bigger than it looked from the outside. It was probably twenty feet wide by fifty feet long. There was a small open bathroom in one corner and three beds. Numerous shelves held jars of preserved vegetables and fruit, plus lots of canned goods. There was enough food in here to last for months.

  Half a dozen dynamo powered lanterns were hanging at regular intervals, illuminating the room. The sink near the toilet had a manual pump on it. Now this was a zombie shelter, if I ever saw one. Once the door was secure, she came over and introduced herself.

  “I’m April Patton,” she said, extending her hand.

  “Wylie Grant,” I replied, and shook her hand. “The walking wounded is Myron Graves.”

  “Call me Gunny,” he said, softly. “I hate being called Myron
.”

  “Those two people you shot were my father and brother.”

  “Oh,” I said, surprised. “I’m so sorry.”

  “Don’t be. They’d have killed me, if they could have. It wasn’t them anymore.”

  “If you’ll let me out, I’ll go get those other guns for you. You can have them.”

  “You’d better make it fast,” she said. “It’ll be dark soon, and you don’t want to be out there when it gets dark.”

  I dropped my pack, taking only the pistols on my belt and the M-4 with me. She opened the door and I made a quick run to the barn and back with the guns. The sun was dipping low in the sky when she shut and locked the door behind me. I put the guns on a table, next to an old pump shotgun and a lever action deer rifle. She only had one box of ammo for the deer rifle and a handful of shells for the shotgun.

  While I was gone, she’d already cleaned Gunny’s wound and had him lying on a bunk. He seemed to be resting comfortably.

  “Are you hungry?” she asked, softly.

  I was about to answer that I was famished until I realized she was talking to Odin.

  “Yes, you are,” she said, holding the sides of his face. “Let’s get you something to eat.”

  Odin followed her like he’d found his new best-friend. I couldn’t help but suppress a chuckle. She began opening three large cans of dog food and dumped them into a bowl. Then she worked the pump and filled another large bowl with water. Odin attacked the food like it had been months since he’d eaten.

  “The poor thing was starving,” she said, shaking her head.

  “Yeah, he usually is,” I agreed. “Where did you get the dog food?”

  “I had a husky that I’d planned on taking in here with me. She bought me time to escape by charging at the things that used to be my family.”

  “I’m sorry,” I said, not knowing what else to say.

  “Thanks,” she replied, smiling sadly.

  I slumped into a chair and started removing my body armor. I winced in pain as I strained my wounds. My entire body ached like never before. I wasn’t sure how much more punishment I was going to be able to take before I gave out from pain and exhaustion, but I was pretty sure I was going to find out before it was all said and done. I wasn't planning on giving up.

  “You look like you’ve been through Hell,” said April.

  “You have no idea,” I groaned, setting the Interceptor vest on the floor beside me.

  She went over and began filling a large porcelain basin with water from the pump. Carefully, she sat it on a table next to one of the beds. Then she grabbed a large first aid kit from the shelf behind the sink.

  “Come over here and lie down,” she said, motioning towards the bed.

  I did as instructed and shuffled over to her.

  “Now take off your clothes,” she said.

  “I’m not sure that’s such a good idea,” I said, defensively.

  “Relax,” she replied, grinning. “I just want to check your wounds.”

  “Do you know what your doing?”

  “I should hope so,” she said. “I’m in my third year of nursing school.”

  She was evidently older than I had taken her for. I did as I was told and lay down on the bed on my stomach. She spent the next half hour cleaning and bandaging my numerous cuts, punctures and scrapes. Then she did something I really didn’t like. She gave me a shot right in the left cheek. The butt cheek, that is.

  My thoughts drifted to food, but I was too tired to get up. I hadn’t realized just how tired I really was. I could barely keep my eyes open. I glanced over at Gunny, but he was already passed out. He was breathing steadily and seemed to be resting comfortably. I couldn’t ask for more, at this point.

  I was hungry enough to eat a rhino, but too tired to care. I fell asleep, right there on the bunk. I was still naked, but exhausted beyond the point of modesty. I had the vaguest of sensation of being covered with a blanket, but then I was gone.

  The thought fleetingly slipped through my brain, “I wonder what was in that shot? I sure hope I can trust her.”

  Chapter Six

  Touch of the Healer

  “Trust men and they will be true to you; treat them greatly and they will show themselves great.”

  - Ralph Waldo Emerson

  14 April

  I awoke to the smell of food. My stomach rumbled its eagerness to investigate, but I gingerly lifted my head. I glanced around the room, my vision slowly taking focus. Near the shelves of food, April was cooking food on a camp stove. Whatever it was, it smelled delicious.

  “Good morning,” she said, over her shoulder. “How did you sleep?”

  “Like a rock,” I mumbled, my mouth thick with sleep.

  “Good,” she replied. “You looked like you could use it, so I gave you a mild sedative. I also gave you a massive dose of antibiotics, just in case.”

  “Thanks,” I managed to say as I sat up. “How’s Gunny?”

  “He’s fine,” she replied. “While you were asleep, I removed the pellets and stitched him up. I gave him a sedative. He’ll be asleep for a while. I didn’t have any blood to give him, but I did give him some fluids. I think he’ll be ok, in time.”

  “That’s great,” I said. “He’s a tough old bastard.”

  “Go ahead and clean yourself up,” she said. “I put some clothes next to you that should fit you.”

  “Where are my clothes?” I asked.

  “Well, the shirt is drying,” she replied. “But I think the pants are beyond my skill to repair.”

  I didn’t argue with her. I just picked up the bundle of clothes and limped over to the bathroom area. The blisters on the bottoms of my feet were killing me. April didn’t turn to watch me, so I used the toilet and started filling the sink with water. It was cold, but I washed with it anyway. I scrubbed away the worst of the filth with a bar of soap, and rinsed myself over a drain in the floor. Once that was done, I dried off with a towel and checked the clothes.

  There was a black t-shirt with a Jack Daniels logo on it, a pair of blue jeans, clean socks and a pair of underwear. I slipped into them and felt much better. The clothes were a decent fit, and it felt good to be wearing something besides BDU’s for a change. They even smelled clean.

  “Thanks,” I said, slipping the socks onto my feet.

  “No problem,” she replied. “You still have a little time before the food is ready. There’s a razor and shaving cream on that shelf above the toilet, if you want it.”

  I smiled as I picked up the razor. I wasted no time in stripping off the t-shirt and lathering up my head. I decided that I was going to keep a goatee. Sheriff’s department policy forbade facial hair other than a moustache, but I think it was safe to ignore that now. I liked having my head shaved, but I missed my goatee. Shaving with cold water isn’t nearly as effective as hot, but I wasn’t going to complain. I took my time and scraped my skin smooth. I only nicked myself a few times, but I attributed that more to the cold water than anything else.

  By the time I finished and had my boots back on, April was motioning for me to join her at the little table. Odin was still sound asleep on one of the beds and didn’t bother to come to eat with us. That must have meant that she had fed him well, the night before. Odin rarely missed a meal, if he could help it.

  I limped over and sat down in the chair opposite her, looking longingly at the plate. It was mounded over with fettuccini Alfredo with chicken. I could tell it was canned chicken, but I didn’t care. There was also corn and green beans. I dug into it all with gusto. We ate in silence, each lost in our own thoughts. I was wondering how I had gotten so lucky to find this oasis in the middle of zombie country.

  “Eat all you want,” she said, eventually. “I made plenty. Besides, you look like you could use a good meal.”

  “Thank you,” I said, “for everything.”

  “No problem,” she said, blushing. “I only did what was right.”

  “You have to be careful,” I
said, shaking my head. “Not everyone who survived this is friendly.”

  “I imagine so,” she answered. “Things like this either brings out the best or the worst in people. It’s human nature.”

  “Yeah, I suppose so,” I said, refilling my plate.

  After I’d eaten my fill, I leaned back in the chair and sighed.

  “That was fantastic,” I said, smiling. “Thank you.”

  “I don’t know if I’d ever call my cooking fantastic,” she replied, smiling, “but you are most definitely welcome.”

  “I’m going to hate to leave here,” I said.

  “Where are you going?”

  I told her about my family and of everything that had happened since the zombies first hit us. I intended to stop there but it all came tumbling out of me, unbidden. She listened as I told her about losing my friends both to zombies and to other survivors. I told her about seeing friends die right before me and how I nearly sacrificed myself to save my family. She cried as I told her about leading the zombies away and detonating the marina.

  We talked for quite a while, talking about what we’d done before the zombies came. It all seemed so distant, now. Like from another life. We even managed to laugh a few times. My reverie was broken when Odin whined from near the door. I glanced up and saw him pacing back and forth by the door. I knew what that meant, too. He needed to go outside.

  “I’d better take him outside,” I said. “I don’t want to be locked in here with one of his yard-bombs.”

  Then I limped over to my gear and picked up my M-4. I quickly checked the load and safety. Satisfied, I stuck two more magazines in my back pockets and headed towards the door. Odin was waiting for me and got excited as I approached. I stopped by the door and listened for any sound of movement from outside. When I didn’t hear anything, I peeked out the little window in the door. It looked clear, so I cautiously unlocked the door and opened it as quietly as I could. I kept Odin from bounding past me and crept up the stairs.