What we were building was to be an urushiol-coated fence. Wood posts set in concrete, six-and-a-half feet tall and strung with thick baling wire every nine inches. We’d found a good stock of 8’ long 4”x4” lumber, so Hemp thought it would be a good idea.
We were working on the last main section, on the north side of the property. We’d already posted and wired up the top three cables on the rest of it, and when all was said and done, it was exactly what we’d intended.
Before it was all done, we’d need a total of about 290 posts and almost 14,000 feet of wire, but we like it here a lot, and we plan to stay as long as the fates allow. It’s going to be our home for the foreseeable future.
We planned to create a four-acre space that we could cross-fence inside to keep livestock, using the rest of it for planting whatever else we needed. It was our intention to become self-sufficient, and everybody was on board. We’d only begun to lay out the plans for it when Nelson disappeared, but I’m pretty sure that if he’d have known what we had in mind, the dude would have stuck around to help.
But who knows. Nelson seemed to like an adventure, and since I’m telling this story after the fact, you know by now that he went to California with Dave and Serena. Woulda been nice if he’d have shared that with us. I had the distinct feeling he was gonna need that Subdudo of his when he got back, ‘cause Gem and Charlie were bound to kick the shit out of him for disappearing like he did.
Once the fence was completed, we planned to brush coat every strand of that baling wire with a nice amount of urushiol. The sticky oil wouldn’t rinse off in water, and even old residue will fuck with a zombie’s complexion real good.
While winters were mild in South Carolina, we wanted to have everything ready for spring. We wanted a fresh start with lots of reason for hope, and that included a full vegetable garden and some fruit trees.
The town of Whitmire, which was mostly zombies, only had a few over 1400 people to start with. That meant roughly 140 uninfected folks initially had to figure out what was going on and try to defend themselves against their 1260 zombie neighbors. From what we’d seen in town, it hadn’t been pretty. We determined that around 57% of the residents of Whitmire had been women. That puts their number at around 800. Now apply the 3.13% of all women being pregnant, and we have around 25 pregnant Whitmire women at the time of the apocalypse.
Now for the disturbing calculation, which shows that even in a small town like this, there could be big trouble: 22 of the 25 women are likely zombies. Not just any zombies. Red-eyes.
After settling in to Whitmire, we immediately identified the locations of the cemeteries and put signs up to warn others away who were perhaps headed in that direction. These were old cemeteries, though, so many of the occupants weren’t quite up to reanimating. Still, people died here more recently, and we just hoped like hell that most of them had been embalmed. They can’t come back when their organs – particularly their brains – are gone.
Hemp always wonders how many are still suspended in mid-dig, though. There are bound to still be some. It can’t be an easy trek, even for the ones who never sleep.
Anyway, like I said, we intend this little remote town to be our permanent, start over point. We’re birthing babies and settling in, and we’ll protect our homestead like a country should protect its borders.
No more running to find another place, and no more attempts at community building. We’d have to start with our core group – build ourselves a safe, self-sustaining home and work our way outward, expanding as needed. We’d broadcast on the ham and tell everyone who picked it up how to extract urushiol, how to make WAT-5, and anything else that might help . We’d begun filling those super-soaker water pistols with the stuff, and the moment Taylor suggested it, we felt stupid. Of course. Water guns. The simple crap that sometimes escapes an adult’s mind.
Getting back to the spring planting season that we looked forward to. Hemp and Charlie would be parents by then, and that would sure as hell go a long way towards providing all of us more of that hope we needed so much. I’ve never had kids of my own before, but seeing little Flexy’s smile makes my day. Gem swears it’s gas, but I think the little guy is smiling at his old man.
Why wouldn’t he?
“Got it?” asked Hemp, ready to tilt the wheelbarrow.
“Hold on,” I said, moving the level off a bump on the post and adjusting it just a bit. “Okay,” I said. “Pour it.”
Hemp poured until the hole was full of concrete, and I jammed a stick down beside the post and moved it in and out, trying to work the concrete into the air gaps.
I let go of the post, checked it once more, and found it to be straight. I let go. “Good job, buddy. I say we take a break.”
Gem carried Flexy’s seat over to me and I took it from her, giving her a quick kiss.
“We’re sure getting there,” she said. “It actually went faster than I thought it would.”
“It really did,” I said. “Once they’re all in, we can work on the rest of the eye screws for these posts, then get the baling wire strung across the north end. For a while we can let the cows and horses run in the big pen.”
“We can cross-fence it using just lumber,” said Hemp. “But I think the urushiol-coated wire will be a better deterrent. Five strands of wire, five opportunities to get it on their skin.”
“How often you think we’ll have to re-coat it?” I asked..
“It’s an oil, and it’s a sticky one,” said Hemp. “Maybe monthly, just to be sure. I plan to plant poison ivy all around the outside as well, remember. And with the gas pushing them along, they should grow large and do it quickly. This could be the safest place in America when we’re done.”
The rotor sounds made us all look into the sky at the same time. We looked all around, then saw a helicopter approaching from the west. I wasn’t any expert, but it appeared to be jostling around pretty good in the wind, which gusted occasionally, surprising everyone with its force.
Gem got her weapon and raised it, and I put Flexy’s carrier on the ground and stood between it and the chopper. We all had our guns out now. After what had happened to Hemp, we weren’t taking any chances. While we knew that Dave and Serena were supposed to be in a helicopter, that didn’t mean it was this helicopter.
Then something changed. The rotor sound sputtered and died, falling silent.
I think confusion washed over all our faces, at least for a moment. As we watched, the helicopter’s nose dipped sharply as it headed straight for our open pasture.
I heard Bunsen bark and looked over. Charlie stood and moved away from the covered porch, her almost 9-month pregnant belly leading the way. Bunsen and Slider were on her heels. She got into the open and held her hand above her eyes to shield the bright sunlight as she looked at what had drawn all of our attention.
I turned back to watch its flight. The helicopter was still moving toward us, but even I could tell it was struggling to stay airborne.
“What the hell’s going on?” I asked, as Hemp stared at the now quiet bird.
“Out of fuel is my guess,” said Hemp, almost in a whisper, as though not wishing to distract the pilot, who must have been singularly focused at that moment. “It’s going into autorotation now,” he said. “Hope the pilot is good enough to bring it down safely.”
We collectively held our breath as the helicopter came in too fast, its nose now dipping impossibly low, but fighting to regain a more level flying position as the whirlybird dropped from just a hundred feet up.
Another gust of wind, probably not under thirty miles an hour, hit the field. The chopper lifted slightly, then dropped suddenly to the ground, its nose angled more sharply now. When it hit, I cringed as the dirt flew up around it. The nose bounced off the ground and back up, causing the helicopter to hit hard on the skids before bouncing yet again and angling sharply, tilting so far as to bury one of the rotor blades into the grass. The dig-in blade made the chopper’s tail swing hard left, the rotor blade pull
ing out of the soil, now bent to a near 45 degree angle. The rotor had prevented the bird from flipping onto its side, however, and it returned again to an upright position where it finally came to its final point-of-rest.
I heard all of us release our breath at once. The machine was now still, sitting upright about forty yards away from us, almost in the dead center of our field.
A few tense moments passed before the side door opened, and a person with long, blonde hair, wearing a helmet, stepped outside. The helmet came off, and we saw it was Nelson.
He waved at us frantically, dropped to his knees and kissed the ground before turning back to the cabin of the flying machine. He helped a blonde girl out, then others emerged behind her.
We gave a loud whoop and smiles spread across our faces as I scooped up little Flexy’s carrier and we all ran toward Nelson and the chopper.
Our friends were home. It might have been a very close call, but they had made it safely back to us.
*****
“Wow, that was freaky!” shouted Nelson. It was quiet now, so there was no reason to yell, but after being surrounded by noise for hours, it was hard to get used to speaking at a normal level, so we said nothing.
“Damned thing ran out of gas!” said Nelson, reaching us. “I can’t believe she put it down, but I had Buddha, God, and every other powerful dude occupied for a least a minute or so there.”
“It’s just good to have you back, buddy,” I said, hugging him and squeezing his shoulders. “Why didn’t you guys fill it up one last time?” I asked.
Nelson didn’t hear. He busily made the rounds, hugging everyone. We saw some others stepping out, including Dave Gammon and Serena Casteneda. My heart settled, knowing all of them had made it safely home.
What appeared to be a child got out of the pilot’s door, and I stared in disbelief. The person wasn’t looking at us, and stopped to stare up at the tweaked rotor blade.
A shake of the head. Then she took off her helmet and turned toward us, meeting our eyes for the first time. It was a woman. Not a girl, not a child of any kind. I didn’t think she could be taller than 4’10” or 4’11”.
Gem, Hemp and I went to her.
“I wasn’t a hugger before I met these folks,” said Hemp, approaching the petite woman. “But I assume you’re Rachel, and I’m impressed and so happy to meet you I can’t express it any other way.”
He hugged Rachel, who stood on her tip-toes to return the embrace. He pulled away smiling, then looked at the helicopter. “A Euro-Copter,” he said. “A very good machine, and you did an excellent job of the emergency landing. I have to ask if you’ve done that before.”
Before she could answer, Gem reached and scooped her into a hug. “I’m Gem, Rachel,” she said. “And the big, good-looking guy here is Flex. The little cutie in the carrier is our son, Flex Jr.”
“An honest-to-goodness family,” she said. “That’s nice to see.” We could see she was still a bit shaken up. She swiped the bangs from her forehead.
“I am Rachel Reed, and I can tell by your accent that you’re Hemp,” she said, looking at him. Her short, brown hair framed her small face, and pronounced freckles adorned her nose and cheeks. Deep dimples formed when she smiled nervously. “And to answer your question, I’ve only performed that maneuver in a simulator. Never had the need otherwise.”
“Well,” said Hemp, smiling, “you must have nailed it in training. Good job.”
Rachel shrugged, waving her hand toward the bent blade. “It’s not even a functioning machine now,” she said. “We’d been having some scary fill-ups with Isis aboard, and I underestimated the fuel we had left. Thought we could get here with a gallon or two to spare.”
“At least we know you have the skills necessary to fly a helicopter,” said Hemp. “Perhaps soon we can locate a solid replacement in working order.”
“Yeah, engine-wise it’s sound,” said Rachel, “but I wouldn’t be comfortable trying to straighten that rotor blade.”
“I might have the capability,” said Hemp. “Depends on how easily we can find a replacement. Meanwhile, we’ll have to figure out how to remove it from our pasture.”
“Sorry about that,” said Rachel, with an embarrassed smile.
Charlie reached the group and gave out her hugs and hellos while the dogs welcomed everyone to the neighborhood with barks and front leg bows, and some smiles that might be scary if you didn’t know them. Nobody appeared alarmed.
Gem had her arms around Dave, and she squeezed the life out of him, saying, “That about freaked us out. I can’t even tell you how much we missed you guys.”
“You were freaked out?” asked Dave, a nervous smile on his face. “When I heard the engine stop, I almost pissed myself.”
“Oh, don’t worry,” she said. “It was the same for us watching it,” said Gem. Then: “Oh, my God.” Her voice was a whisper.
I followed her eyes and saw a man with long, wavy hair like Dave’s emerge from the helicopter, holding a little girl. Behind him, another woman stepped out and immediately dropped to her knees and kissed the grass.
She stood again, dusting off her pants and looking a little embarrassed. Her blonde hair was down to the middle of her back, and she currently had it in a braid. It looked to me like it was close to Hemp’s hair color, maybe a bit more on the platinum side.
Gem let go of Dave and we both walked over to where they stood.
“You must be Bug,” said Gem, smiling, her eyes moving between the baby and the man, who stood about Dave’s height of around six feet tall.
“I am,” he said. “I take it you’re Flex and Gem?”
“You got it,” I said, holding out my hand. He secured the baby girl in the crook of his left arm and shook my hand.
“I can’t even believe we’re here,” he said. “All this shit has happened so fast.”
“Extremely fast,” said Isis, with perfect clarity.
Gem stared at her in disbelief. “I heard about her eating and sleeping habits, but not so much her language skills.“
“She’s rampin’ up,” said Bug. “Kinda freakin’ me out a bit.”
“So no sleep at all, she only eats meat, and now she’s a big talker?” I asked.
“Check, check and I guess another check,” said Bug.
Gem, leaned forward to put a hand to the child’s cheek, kissing her opposite one. “She’s a cutie-pie.” Gem then kissed Bug on the cheek and gave him a half-hug.
“And I take it you’re Lola,” I said to the blonde girl. “Good to meet you. I’m Flex and this is Gem.”
The girl smiled, revealing straight, white teeth. Her eyes were red, but we’d been prepared for that in advance, and had seen our share of the condition before. We’d get the whole story later, especially how it affected her.
“I have so been waiting to meet you guys,” Lola said. “Dave talks about you like you’re comic book superheroes.”
“Looks like Dave’s the superhero here,” said Gem, hugging Lola. I moved in when she let go and gave Lola a bear hug that she returned with enthusiasm.
We glanced over to see that Charlie stood with Dave and Serena, her arms around both of them. They hugged her back, and she stepped away from them, her hands on her stomach. “You’re going to be here for the birth!” she said. “I’m so happy about that. God, you’re here safe. And you got your uncle, Dave!”
“I did,” he said. “If not for Lola and Rachel, not to mention Isis there, we wouldn’t be here now. We might still be on our way to California.”
“Rachel’s the pilot?” asked Charlie.
“Yeah, and a hell of a pilot. You should hear what she and Nel did in Dunsmuir, not to mention what she did just now. Anyway, there’ll be time for that later. So good to see you guys. God, Charlie, you look good.”
“You do,” said Serena, hugging her tight. “Beautiful. The proverbial glowing. She leaned forward and whispered something in Charlie’s ear that I did not hear.”
Charlie’s face lit
up. “Shut up!” she said.
Serena smiled back at her, and now I couldn’t help but smile myself. “What the hell’s goin’ on?” I asked.
“Yeah, what the hell’s going on?” seconded Gem.
“You gonna say it or am I?” asked Charlie.
Now Hemp put his hellos on hold and looked in anticipation.
“I’m pregnant,” she said.
“Oh, my God!” said Gem excitedly. “Talk about a baby boom. We’re going to have a regular nursery!”
Gem’s expression changed suddenly. “You are staying, right? Here?”
Dave shrugged. “That kind of depends on how much Hemp learns about Isis, and what the decision of the group is,” said Dave. “I’m going where my Uncle Bug goes. I want him to stay around here, but that little girl does bring with her some interesting problems. I’d understand if the consensus went against … well, what we want.”
“Family’s family,” said Gem. “You’d have to be a serial killer to have blood ties with any of us and be exiled.”
Everyone else offered their congratulations and all of the new arrivals, including Lolita Lane and Rachel Reed were well-hugged and welcomed to the family.
“We’re going to have to get back out here for more fence detail later on,” said Hemp, “but for now, we’re done with the mixed concrete. Let’s go inside and catch up. Isis can meet the girls and the dogs.”
As we all began to walk toward the house, something caught my eye off to the west. It was a tattered rotter, his face fixed on our moving group, and one arm dangling as though broken, the other missing altogether.
“I’ll get this one,” I said. “Go on inside.”
I removed my Glock from my drop holster and walked slowly toward the creature. If I could kill it far enough from our property, we could take our time retrieving the carcass. We had created a burning pile in a pit, and it was working out well. The zombie was very near it.
Dead Hunger VI_The Gathering Storm Page 2
