Most of the families had fortified the perimeters of their land, much the same as me, however, there were few unfortunate families that did not. They were now walking their own properties, infected. After an hour had passed, I realized my nervous pacing and returned to my bedroom, sitting down on the bed. I looked over at my dogs, as they watched me from the rug. At least they were calm.
Looking back up and out the window, I noticed three people stumbling towards the fencing. I picked up my rifle and looked through the scope, aiming the crosshairs towards the people. It was Tom and his family. They had become infected and were wandering towards my perimeter fence. They reached the fence and began pushing at the wood, getting cut by the sharp barbed wire attached to the wood.
The barbed wire cut through their skin and cause them to fall backwards, but they were still looking for a way through the fence. I knew what I had to do and slid open the window, placing my rifle on the window seal and pulled the hammer back. One by one, I took aim and fired a single shot into the heads of my neighbors and friends, until the last shot came.
Tom’s son was looking down at his father. He turned and looked up at the window, seeming to recognize what was happening. He turned and moved behind a tree, hiding from my sight. He recognized it, looked at me and then at his father and hid behind the tree. Was there still intelligence in the infected? Maybe they weren’t just mindless, infected creatures like the stories on the internet tell.
I’ll leave him for now, but I had better check back in a few minutes, to make sure he doesn’t make it through my perimeter fencing. The dogs had made their way down into the kitchen and were lapping water from their bowls, must be feeding time as well. I walked to the pantry, opened the door and pulled out the large bag of Purina.
The dogs went from mellow, to two rambunctious children. Wagging their tails and clamoring through the kitchen. I poured their food into the shiny, silver food dishes and placed the bag back into the pantry. As I turned to go back up to my bedroom, a knock came at the back kitchen door. I grabbed my rifle and raised it towards the sliding glass door; slowly making my way across the kitchen.
“Who is it?” I called out, but there was no answer. Moving closer to the door, I could hear footsteps walking from the deck. Whoever it was couldn’t be more than 120 pounds, the wood of the deck would be making more noise. I pulled a piece of wood, securing the door, from its position and glanced out of the door. There was no-one out there now, maybe the boy made it through the fence and was now in the backyard.
I rushed up to my bedroom and looked through the scope of my rifle, but the boy was still crouched behind the tree. I could see him looking and trying to see up to my window but still hiding, timidly, behind the tree. Who was at the back door then? I rushed back to the kitchen and stood near the door. The dogs were barking and scratching at the wood, blocking the door. I attempted to calm them, “Guys Shhh, you are going to attract unwanted attention to us.”
After a few more minutes of waiting, I placed the board back in position and nailed it securely with a hammer. Nothing was going to get through the first floor and if it had been someone without infection, they would have announced themselves. I turned on the flood lights and posted watch at the rear window of the second floor. The dogs were still restless and every so often would let out a whimper then return to their rug and lay down.
The sun had set and the flood lights lit up the perimeter of the field and tool shed. From the corner of my eye, I saw slow movements in the center of the cornfield. There were a group of shadows, slowly making their way toward the house. I raised my field glassed, but could not make out if the people were infected or not. How could they get through the fencing?
They must have pushed it aside or crawled underneath and made it through. Regardless, I would have to take care of this situation now, because putting it off would only require me to deal with it later. I didn’t want to fire upon a group of people if they were not infected, so there was one option left. Make my way to the basement and out to the tool shed.
I took the dogs into basement with me and closed the door leading down to the basement, securing the large metal latch and locked it. The dogs went to an old couch, in the corner and jumped onto it, lying down and resting their heads on each other. They knew that when they came into this part of the house, it was time to relax, stay and fall asleep.
I opened the bomb shelter door and slipped inside, turning on the backup generator. Looking at the fuel gauge, it wouldn’t be long before I needed more fuel. Moving quickly into the shelter, I turned down one of the tunnels, leading to the tool shed. The small lights lit the way, down the stagnant walkway.
I reached the door, located just below the tool shed and turned the handle. The door dropped open, dumping a large amount of dust into my face and mouth, causing me to cough and spit out the dirt. No-one has been through this door in ages. I climbed into the shed and walked over to the window, looking out to get a better view of the cornfield. The groups of people were now in sight and I could see they were definitely infected. I would need to take care of this before more came. The rumors were, once the zombies made their way into your land, more would soon follow. I reached for my rifle and looked through the scope, there were eight infected, so I slowly opened the window and put my rifle through the opening.
The first shot rang out and hit one of the infected directly in its head, splitting it in two and dropping it to the ground. The shot raised the attention of the rest of the group and they immediately turned, moving in my direction. One by one, the infected moved in closer and surrounded the shed. I shot two more of them and turned to fire another shot. As the shadow moved into the light, I recognized the face in an instant, lowering my rifle, “Laylianna?” It was her; she moved forward and looked up at me, moaning. The others came towards the shed and began to break through the thin wood, knocking tools to the floor. One of the infected poked his head through the opening and broke through, leaving a large gap in the shed.
I raised my rifle and pulled the trigger, click and “Damn a misfire.” I looked to the floor and noticed a large screwdriver, just next to my foot. With a killer instinct, I picked up the screwdriver and slammed it through the head of the zombie on the floor, after that, another woman had pushed through the opening and was reaching for me. I turned and plunged the screwdriver through her eye, blood squirted from the wound and nearly hit me in the face, but I managed to avoid it.
Now, time to board up this hole and get back to the window. I turned, the door smashed open and an infected zombie rushed towards me, slamming me to the ground. I struggled to push his mouth away from my face. Man, this is not good, I thought to myself, as the zombie opened his mouth and went to bite into my neck. From the opening of the bomb shelter, Sammy jumped up from the hole and slammed into the side of the zombie. I grabbed a large shovel, raising it above my head, crushing it down into the zombie’s head, squashing it like a melon.
Sally jumped from the hole afterwards, and they both rushed from the door of the shed, “Sammy, Sally, no! Come back here now!” They ignored me and rushed into the darkness. Seconds later, another one came through the door. I reached for my rifle, cocked the lever action and fired, the bullet split the zombie’s head in two and the body fell to the ground. I ran from the tool shed to hear a dog bark, whimper and then silence. Running around to the back of the shed, I discovered Laylianna chewing into the neck of Sammy, Sally was already dead next to him. “No!” I screamed out, raising the gun towards Laylianna’s head. She stopped and looked up at me and back down at Sammy. She stopped and began crawling backwards, wiping the blood from her mouth and frantically realizing what she had done.
I cocked the lever action, placing a bullet in the chamber. Shaking and trembling with rage, I raised the gun and fired a shot to the left of her. She moaned and raised her arm, pointing behind me. I turned and found the last infected man coming towards me, cocked the lever and fired a shot into his head. The man fell to the ground and I tu
rned back to Laylianna walking towards her, with the rifle raised to her head.
I pressed the rifle into her head and screamed, “Why? Why did you do that?” She looked up at me with what looked to be a tear coming from her eye, “Can zombie’s cry?” I said out loud. She has an infection, so it was her nature to want to kill but why Sammy and Sally? I burst into tears and ran back into the tool shed, picking up the shovel and then walking back out into the field.
I started digging as quickly as possible, watching my back and Laylianna as well. She stayed on the ground, next to Sammy and Sally, pounding her hand into the dirt and petting my dogs. I turned and walked back over to Sammy, picked him up and walked him over to the first hole. I placed him in the hole and began covering the hole with dirt.
After finishing burying Sammy, I turned and saw that Laylianna had already picked up Sally and was walking her to the hole. She handed Sally to me and walked back over to the shed. I stood there crying, looking down at Sally and then back at Laylianna, who sat back down at the side of the tool shed. I turned and placed Sally into the second hole, covered it and returned to the tool shed.
What to do now? I turned and walked back to Laylianna, “What are you? Why did you do that?” I slammed my hand into the side of the shed. Laylianna flinched and hunkered down on the ground. I went back into the shed and grabbed a chain hanging on the wall, and back to Laylianna securing the chain around her wrists and neck. She didn’t even resist, stood up and waited, looking me in the eyes. There was still something there, a recognition and grief for her actions after killing my friends Sammy and Sally. I broke from her gaze and yanked the chain leading her into the shed, lowering her through the shelter door.
I climbed down after her and secured the door, twisting the latch till it was tightly locked. I led Laylianna through the tunnels and into the main section of the basement, tying the chain to a large pipe on the wall. A pipe thick enough to keep anyone securely restrained, sliding a lock through the links of the chain. I walked back over to Laylianna and made sure the chains would hold her.
She looked up at me and seemed to have an apologetic look on her face. I ignored it and walked from the basement, turned off the lights, slamming the door behind me. This has got to be the worst night of my life, at least since the passing of my mother. I was wound up and frustrated over the loss of my dogs. In the storage room of my garage, I opened the safe and pulled out a few various weapons, a shotgun, a .45 caliber Berretta and shells for them both.
I reached inside another closet and pulled out some old military clothing and a black vest, put it on and covered my face in dark face paint. Placing the Berretta in my holster and the shotgun strap over my shoulder, I reached back into the safe and grabbed one of my larger hunting knives. I slipped from the garage door, turned and locked the latch with the lock. Now it’s time for some serious payback.
With the flashlight attached to my shotgun, I made my way from the front yard and through the perimeter fence. The bodies of Tom, his wife and daughter were just in front of the fence, their heads split open and brain matter scattered across the dirt. I shined the light over the bodies and then into the distant darkness.
Just across the street, was a large patch of bushes, I heard some movement and quickly made my way across the street, near the bushes. There were large trees behind the bushes and a wooden fence surrounding the entrance to Tom’s drive way. Tom must have not understood the situation with his son when he carried him over to my front door, but I warned him. His son must have reanimated and infected the entire family.
The sound from the bushes continued and I moved in closer, picked up a rock and threw it as hard as I could towards the sound. Within seconds, Tom’s son stood from the bushes and ran towards me. I pumped the shotgun once and fired a shot directly at Tom’s infected son. The blast threw his body up into the air and back in the bushes, the body went motionless.
I moved from the bushes, down the street and further towards the next ranch, Marcel’s ranch. I needed to be extremely cautious, since Marcel was the town’s experienced and well informed zombie aficionado. In the front of the entrance to Marcel’s ranch, were large military type barbed wire blockades. There were two zombies caught in the wires, struggling to get free of the fencing. I walked slowly over to the fence, raised my Berretta and fired two shots into the heads of the infected. Moments later, I heard the sound of footsteps from behind me and a weapon clicking and firmly pressed against the back of my head.
“Who are you?” The strong accent indicating it was Marcel. “Marcel, it’s me, Baxter.” Marcel lowered the gun and pushed me from behind, “Man Baxter, I was seconds away from blowing your brains out.”
“I was just coming to check on you, a group of zombies attacked me and killed my dogs.” Marcel dropped his shoulders and head and replied, “Ah, I am terribly sorry Baxter. From the look of things, you must be ready for some payback?”
Does it look that obvious, I thought, “You’re damn right Marcel. Tom’s family was infected by his son, I took care of that, but now I’m ready for a hunt tonight.” Marcel placed his pistol back in his holster and reached behind his back, pulling out a large machete, “Let’s get down to business.” After looking into Marcel’s eyes, I could see he was just as serious as I was, “Let’s go Marcel.”
We moved into the street and down to the next ranch, slowly moving down the road and into the cover of the trees. Just in front of the next ranch was a group of infected zombies, aimlessly wandering in no certain direction. “Baxter I’ll draw them off with a distraction and you take care of the rest.”
He rushed to the center of the street and towards the group, suddenly breaking into a skip, whistling and singing. That was my signal, so I pulled out my Berretta and followed the fence line. Once I reached the group, the tailing zombie turned and I fired one shot into his forehead. The group turned and moved quickly in my direction, Marcel yelled out, “Now Baxter!”
Marcel pulled his machete and attacked the first two infected, nearest him. His first two swings landed their mark and before I could fire another shot, he had decapitated two of the zombies. Their heads separated from the neck and fell to the ground, bouncing and rolling down the pavement. I was a little taken back by how he handled himself with a blade, but I shook myself to attention and began firing at the remaining group. It didn’t take long before the group of infected zombies were scattered in the road, decapitated and shot in the head. “Nice work Marcel.”
“Thanks Baxter.” Marcel stood, breathing heavily and holding his machete at his side. Without a word, we moved back to Marcel’s ranch and met at the front of the barricades blocking his driveway. “Thanks Marcel, I really appreciate your assistance.” We shook hands and parted ways, agreeing that we should continue to meet as much as possible, continuing to take out as many of the infected as we could.
Marcel turned a short second later and yelled, “Baxter, there is a perimeter in the center of the town, most of the infected have been kept inside by the militia. We could join up with them in the next few days?” I looked back at Marcel, “It seems like they are looking for trouble. We should stick it out on our own, you know? Keep a safe distance from the main hordes.” Marcel raised his machete, waving it in the air. I put up my shotgun and waved it back at him, walking off to my ranch.
Chapter Nineteen
Chris Peters and Cody Vanderhill were sitting in Chris’s car, just outside the call center they managed. They had been given a directive from the owner to secure the building, in order to protect the premises and valuable computer equipment inside and then return to safety. They had finished locking down and securing the building and were talking in Chris’s car about Romero’s zombie movies.
Chris was speaking enthusiastically, “George Romero is such a classic American film director and screenwriter. I love his gruesome horror films, the hypothetical zombie apocalypse! The Godfather of all Zombies! Did you know that one of his early commercial films was a segment for Mister Rog
ers’ Neighborhood in which Mr. Rogers underwent a tonsillectomy, inspired Romero to go into the horror film business?” Cody and Chris laughed and Chris interrupted with enthusiasm, “Lucky for us zombie enthusiasts he formed Image Ten Productions in the late 1960s and produced the cult classic Night of the Living Dead, one of the most defining moments in modern horror cinema, in my opinion.”
“Night of the Living Dead is the best Romero zombie movie!” Cody pulled out a CD folder filled with Chris’ collection of various bands and began looking through them. There was a cold wind howling through the small cracks of the passenger window. Chris turned the keys and rolled up the window, “I even enjoyed The Crazies, the movie where they are dealing with a bio spill that induces an epidemic of homicidal madness. What if that happened here, crazy right? Plus many of his films were shot in or around Pittsburgh, the home of my Steelers, oh yeah!”
The radio was on and the only thing running was the emergency broadcast system’s warning playing over and over; “This analysis of dispersal risk was incomplete and was not reproducible. The committee’s attempts to independently verify the calculations of infected persons, off site, found significantly higher concentrations than described, located centrally within the main section of Tooele, avoid these areas.”
“The most appropriate measure of per-person risk would be total infectious agent dose, which is calculated by the integration of concentration over time, with appropriate physiological parameters. The CDC presents no documentation of an individual’s risk of infection under the prescribed conditions or any description of the effect of population density and population size on the number of cases expected.”
Dead in Love Page 20
