by Steven Pajak
Was I going to get these guys killed?
I couldn’t answer that question honestly right now. But whether it was now or later, everyone was going to find themselves in danger.
The crazies were definitely spreading, and if this event continued without cease, things were going to get worse by the day. Although I was their leader and would do everything in my power to protect them and help them survive, they would need to learn to fend for themselves. I might not always be here for them.
I had to believe that these men would realize the seriousness of our situation and would understand the seriousness of their actions. I needed to rely on Charlie to help me make sure that we’d all be safe and in control. And I’d be in a better state of mind knowing that Brian was here safe and should anything happen to me, the rest of the community would be in good hands.
Back in the dining room I picked up my notebook and looked it over again. Looking at things through different eyes, I started to cross out most of the stores and shops I originally planned to visit. Most of them were too far away and I had to assume that many of them would have already been picked over by people who realized earlier on how serious things might become.
It took about an hour but Brian and I managed to edit our lists and come up with a more realistic set of items. In another fifteen minutes we’d meet with the men I selected and do our best to train them. Hopefully, it would be enough.
* * *
Brian and I spent the last several hours preparing my team as best we could. For the most part, it wasn’t as bad as we expected. All of the men were familiar with firearms and most were used to being in the field with friends while hunting and the need to constantly check your fields of fire. Being aware of the location of others was not a new idea for them.
Although we did not practice live-fire exercises, we made the training as realistic as possible. We devoted a large part of our time to training in and around the vehicle as we expected that if we were attacked the vehicle would be our rally point and we needed to defend our cargo at all costs.
We spent some time on movement as a squad as well as in smaller teams. We drilled on clearing close quarters battle and situational awareness.
It was just after seven in the evening that I decided we were as ready as we could be when we first heard an alarm sound. I had no idea that Bob had managed to find an old hand-cranked air raid siren that he set up at the sentry post. It was loud and scared the hell out of us.
When the alarm sounded, Alex was behind the wheel of the UPS truck with an M9 pistol while Ken, John and I were providing vehicle security. Charlie and his team were 10 yards away practicing fire and maneuver drills.
“What the fuck?” Brian shouted over the alarm. “What is that?”
“I have no idea,” I said.
I moved away from the truck and looked up Cameron Drive toward our front gate. Even from this distance I could see there was a commotion, although I couldn’t determine the cause.
Before I could react I saw both of Bob’s designated patrol vehicles fly past, Bob bouncing in the front seat of the lead vehicle.
“Something’s happening at the gate,” Charlie said.
“Fall in!” Brian shouted. “Fall in! Move!”
And within seconds both teams had formed up at the truck and started to pile in. When all men were in the cargo area I slammed the side door closed and jumped into the front with Alex.
“Go!”
Alex popped the clutch and already had the truck moving before I was able to close the side door.
“Careful with your weapons,” I heard Brian saying in the back. “Keep them pointed at the floor and keep your damn fingers off the triggers. Check your safeties.”
Within half a minute we traveled down Cameron Drive and came up to the T-section that led to our main gate, where a crowd had already gathered. Bob’s patrol cars were already there and Bob was out of the vehicle waving his arms signaling people to move back.
Alex blew his horn and shouted for people to get out of the way. After maneuvering around another vehicle that was blocking our way, the truck jumped the curb and plowed through the grass and brush, sliding to a stop just feet away from Bob’s lead patrol.
Turning and facing the rear I said, “Brian, Charlie, get that crowd organized before someone gets hurt. I saw some folks with guns over there.”
“On it,” Brian said. “Charlie, on me.” The two of them were out of the vehicle and moving toward their objective.
“Alex and Ken, stay with the truck. The rest of you with me,” I said and we jumped out of the vehicle.
I went straight to Bob and his group, who were already gathered around the front gate. Just before I reached them, I saw them all jump back as if something had charged them.
When I was about ten feet from Bob I heard him roar, “Turn that damn alarm off already Ted!”
Ted, a veteran of the Korean War and our oldest resident at Randall Oaks, immediately stopped cranking his machine. His face was red and so drenched with sweat that I thought he might fall over from exertion at any moment.
I reached Bob and touched his shoulder. “What the hell’s going on?”
Instead of answering he merely pointed his finger. I looked forward in the direction he pointed and saw a group of six or so crazies pushing against the gate.
“They don’t look like zombies,” one of Bob’s men said.
“How long have they been here?” I asked the men who were on guard duty.
Kendall, a young man in his mid- twenties, tore his eyes away from the crazies long enough to look at me and say, “Just a few minutes ago. We saw them in the field across the way. As soon as Teddy there started cranking that alarm they rushed us.”
“I almost pissed my pants,” Martin said.
He stood next to Kendall. Both men held shotguns with barrels pointed at the sky.
“You didn’t think about shooting them before they got right up against the gate?” I asked.
Martin looked surprised and Kendall looked back at the group of crazies. I turned to Bob who just shook his head and said, “We’re working on it.”
I sighed.
“What do you want to do?” Bob asked.
I turned to him now but didn’t immediately respond.
The group of crazies pushed against the gate again and rattled the thick chain and padlock, but it held. I focused my attention on them for a moment. Although I’d seen plenty of them over the last few days, some up close and personal, I’d not had the chance to study them up until now.
Of the six that pushed against the gate, two were women. One of them I recognized as the woman who got taken down the night before at Providence.
Why they hadn’t killed her before she changed was beyond me. How she made it out of Providence before she joined the ranks of the crazies was puzzling.
Their eyes were wild and dull at the same time. You could tell there wasn’t much thought going on in their brains. Their bellies were hungry. They saw us and we looked like food. Grunts and meaningless words escaped from their lips as they continued to push up against the gate.
Their movement seemed monotonous. None of them screamed or howled. They just made their noises and reached into the gates and rocked against it trying to get their hands on a meal.
“What should we do?” Bob asked again.
I shook myself out of my daze. “Get everybody back from here. We don’t know how infection spreads and everyone here could be getting exposed.”
Bob and his men immediately turned and started to direct the crowd back.
“Get them at least thirty yards back, Bob!” I called out.
I turned to John, Mike, and Ignatius—Iggy to his friends—who stood beside me waiting for their orders.
“I want you all to line up in front of the gate here and take about ten steps back.”
The men all looked at each other for a moment and then John started to move. The rest of them followed and formed up a line as I’d asked.
“Are we going to shoot them?” Iggy asked.
“Yes,” I said, looking at Iggy to take in his facial expression.
Iggy looked at the crazies at the gate and then down at the turkey gun he held in his hands. “This is going to get messy.”
I smiled. That’s the spirit.
I was thrilled to see that he was more concerned about the mess we were going to make than the fact that he was going to shoot things that were once human beings.
I looked at the rest of the men and all of them were stone-faced and resolute. Ken racked the slide on his shotgun and pulled a couple of shells from his pants pocket to load his scattergun. As I watched, the rest of the men followed suit.
Taking my cue from my men, I thumbed a stripper clip into my SKS and released the charging handle. I stood in line next to Ken and leveled my weapon.
“I want everyone to fire two rounds on my mark. Aim for the head only.”
Turning to my left I looked down the row at the men assembled. Each had their weapon raised and their eyes focused ahead at the crazies who’d been human not too long ago. In just seconds I would turn these men into killers.
“Fire!” I shouted and squeezed the trigger.
The blast of multiple scatterguns was much louder than expected. All of our shots were true and each of the crazies crumpled to the ground in a heap of dead flesh. Iggy was right; it was messy.
Not wanting to lose our momentum we’d built with training and our unexpected live-fire exercise, I signaled for my men to gather around me. I also motioned for Brian and Bob to join us.
When the men huddled around me I turned to Bob. “We need volunteers to clean up that mess but we need to take precautions. They need to cover their mouths and noses and try not to get any of the blood on their skin.”
To Brian I said, “Grab some of those guys with guns and set up security for the clean-up crew. We don’t know what sort of attention that alarm attracted but we need to be prepared.”
“We’ll be ready,” Brian assured me.
“Good. And if your men have to engage, it’s best if they can engage at a distance. Don’t let them waste ammo, though.”
“And us?” Charlie asked.
“Everyone else check ammo and reload if necessary. Training is over. We’re mission ready. Load up and let’s get moving.”
“Alright,” Alex said, bolting for his truck.
After reloading my SKS I started toward the UPS truck. Brian grabbed my arm and halted me. “Good luck, bro,” he said. After a brief pause he gave me a quick hug. “Bring back some smokes if you can. I’m fucking dying here.”
I smiled at my brother. That was the Brian I knew. It was the end of the world for all we knew and he was still concerned about his nicotine fix.
Within ten minutes the gates were opened and the clean-up crew began their gruesome task. I’d have to create a sanitation group when I returned. If this latest attack at our gates was any indication of what we could expect in the future, we needed to be prepared to clean it up. Although no one seemed particularly affected by the sight of the dead bodies, after a while they would begin to stink and draw unwanted attention.
Brian had a squad of eight men standing security for the clean-up crew. With his STG at the ready in his right hand, with his left he waved Alex forward. The UPS truck pulled onto the Route 20. I was on the road again and for some strange reason it felt good.
CHAPTER 13:
Supply
I buckled my seatbelt and slid forward in the passenger’s seat of the UPS truck as we approached the Providence roadblock. My SKS stood between my legs with the muzzle pointed toward the roof of the vehicle.
“Slow down, Alex,” I said.
There was a lot of activity at the roadblock, more than I’d seen the few times I’d been there. As we slowly approached on the eastbound lane, a man flagged us and motioned for us to stop.
“What is all this?” Alex asked.
“Don’t know.”
A line of three trucks of various sizes and make lined up on the westbound side of Route 20, just the other side of the roadblock. A group of men approached the first vehicle, talked to the driver for a minute and then directed the truck to move onto the Providence access road.
As the truck turned left into the complex I saw Phil talking to another group of men on our side of the roadblock. After a moment he looked in our direction. He held up a finger in a wait gesture and I nodded my head.
I was surprised to see Phil at the roadblock but I was also relieved. I expected Comedian again. Although the last time I interacted with Comedian he’d been docile, I knew that wasn’t his normal attitude, especially toward folks from the Randall Oaks Community. I had no idea what we’d done to piss him off, but he certainly had no love for us.
“Are we okay?” Charlie asked from the rear.
I turned to look at him. He stood in the small space between our two seats. I saw concern on his face.
“No problem,” I said.
I turned forward again and was relieved when I heard Charlie turn and move further back into the cargo area. What I just witnessed with those trucks made me nervous for reasons I didn’t want to share with these men. At least not now.
Phil approached us finally, and as he made his way toward my side of the truck I turned to Alex and said, “Let me do the talking.”
“Sure, it’s your show.” He looked away then and pretended to busy himself with checking the fuel gauge. He looked out his window and absently scratched at his beard.
I slid my door open as Phil jumped onto the first step of the truck and pulled himself up.
“Hello, Randall Oaks,” Phil said. He smiled at me.”Nice ride you have here. Even during the apocalypse, Brown delivers, huh?”
“Thanks,” Alex said and rolled his eyes. He’d probably heard just about every UPS joke out there.
“Hey, Phil,” I said and shook his hand. “What’s up?”
He looked back over his shoulder for a moment and then back to me. His eyes wandered over toward Alex for a second and then back to me. “Can I talk to you a minute?”
“Sure.” I released myself from the safety belt and jumped down onto the street, taking my SKS in hand as I went.
“Where are you headed?” Phil asked.
He was fidgety, which wasn’t his usual manner. I’d only met him a few times but I felt I had a pretty good gauge of his personality, and this wasn’t like him. Something was obviously on his mind.
“Supply run.”
I liked Phil but I had to remind myself not to give too much information. Something about those trucks stopped at the roadblock and the one being diverted had my guard up.
“You and everyone else,” Phil said.
He put his hand in his pocket, pulled out a stick of gum, and offered me one, which I accepted.
“Seems like I’m late to the game again,” I said.
Phil nodded. “Kind of late in the day, too. It’s not a good idea to travel during the night.”
I shrugged. “I heard those things sleep in the night. Seems safer to me to travel when they’re slumbering.”
He nodded again. He looked down at his shoes and then at my SKS. When he spoke, he didn’t look at me.
“Those things sleep during the night, sure. But at night you have to watch for people. They’re getting desperate and they’ll do anything to get their hands on supplies. We heard stories of people being ambushed by groups of marauders.”
“Shit.” I shifted my SKS to my other hand. “Have you guys lost anyone to ambush?”
He looked at me now and said, “A few. We lost more this afternoon on our second run. Frank is pretty upset about it.”
“I imagine he would be.”
We were both silent for a moment. I still didn’t understand why he wanted to talk to me privately. He was avoiding eye contact with me, too.
“We really should be on our way,” I said, breaking the silence.
“Yeah.” Phil spit
his gum out, lifted the baseball cap he wore and ran a hand over his thick hair before snugging the cap back down.
I turned and took a few steps when Phil said, “Randall Road has pretty much been picked clean as far as South Elgin. Don’t waste your time there.”
“What about further down Route 20?” I asked.
He shrugged. “Not too sure, but that’s probably a better idea. I haven’t heard much news from that direction.”
I paused a moment and shifted my SKS again. Finally I asked, “Are those your trucks?”
Phil was silent. He dug into his pocket and pulled out his gum, deliberately unwrapping a stick. “Most of them. We’ve been at it all day.”
“And the others?” I asked.
He shrugged again. “Neighbors.”
I nodded. When he didn’t elaborate I turned away. I jumped up onto the truck and set the SKS down beside my seat. I sat down and then turned so I could see Phil.
“Take it easy, Phil,” I said and waved.
“You, too.”
I watched him walk back toward the roadblock. When he was about ten feet away, he whistled and made a motion with his hand. A moment later the vehicle that blocked our path drove forward onto the Providence access road and cleared a path for us.
Phil waved us forward.
“Let’s go,” I said to Alex. Turning slightly in my seat I called to the guys in the back, “We’re moving, gentlemen.”
We drove past Providence and we were on our way again. I looked one last time at the truck that had been redirected. The driver was sitting on the floor beside his cab while a few other men were sorting through the cargo. I had a bad feeling that I really couldn’t explain.
“Change of plan,” I said to Alex as we approached the Randall exit. “Stay on East 20.”
Alex nodded. After a moment he said, “What was that all about?”
“Supplies. It’s all about supplies.”
* * *
