by Javan Bonds
☠☠☠
"There are what? 85,000 people or close to it in the county? I doubt even five percent escaped before getting bit. Not counting those guard dogs at town hall, I don’t think I’ve seen ten of them. I’ve heard stories about packs at night, but I’m not going to sit outside in the dark." Randy continued his reasoning and guessing. "The woods all over the county are either busting at the seams with those monsters or they are just migrating north and following the food supply.” Each of them shuddered at the thought of wooded areas jam packed with insane, naked cannibals.
He continued thinking out loud. "They don’t seem to like living in large warehouse-like structures, so those would be the only two options—” He was interrupted as Mary launched from Bradley’s shoulder. She disappeared into the black beyond their field of vision.
Before anyone could ask, Bradley explained. “She’s simply doing a little recon." Randy didn’t like the idea of sending a seven pound, toothless, animal with filed nails alone into a crypt. Bradley seemed completely confident there was no chance of her being caught by anything. The group moved forward while waiting for Mary’s return and Randy began to go through a mental list of what they would need. They could use literally everything in this giant abandoned warehouse of tools and supplies. The tactician was only worried about retrieving what would be needed to build a barricade, eventually a drawbridge for the river bridge, and guard shacks for it and the causeways.
A sound resembling a shoeless baby running at them at full tilt briefly tensed the scavengers. Mary returned, pounced onto her master’s shoulder, and looked over at the two uncomfortable leaders. She rolled her eyes as if to say, "Yeah, I just ran across a fucking warehouse in three minutes flat. What did you do?" The fact that she was completely calm was obvious proof that, as they had figured, there were no zombies. But then she did something surprising, she pointed toward the far side of the store.
“Really? Monkeys point?" Randy was about to ask. Bradley gestured in that direction. "She found something over there and wants us to check it out."
Though this was obvious, none of them could guess what she had found. If it was a peevie, Randy figured she would have given more warning than simply pointing at it, but he had no clue. Being cautious at each corner, the team slowly crossed the building, following Mary’s finger until they reached the indoor lumberyard. From the light of a conveniently placed skylight, they could make out several sets of concrete steps leading up racks of lumber to a small, solitary, portable shed. Well, this had clearly been constructed by a living person. Randy looked to Mary as if to say, "Good find, thanks." she returned it with a knowing glance. "Nothing to it, I do this shit every day."
☠☠☠
Sharp pains assaulted the group leaders who dropped their weapons and raised their hands. Their companions followed suit. It seemed they were surrounded. Randy and Hammer both sported nails stuck in the chests and backs of their vests, even a few in their bare forearms and unarmored thighs. It was not immediately obvious that they had been shot with carpenter nails. It was only clear that they had not been ambushed by survivors wielding big-boy firearms or they would be dead several times over. When their ambushers showed themselves, the strike team was embarrassed at having been so caught off-guard. Presenting themselves were a stocky slab of muscle named Daniel to their nine o’clock, his tall and skinny girlfriend, Georgia at twelve, and their five-year-old son, Hunter at their six. All wielded battery-powered nail guns and used stacks of wood as cover.
"Who the hell are you and what do you want?" Daniel’s question was obviously aimed at Randy.
The older man responded after a pause. "We are a group of survivors living down in Guntersville. We didn’t know there was anyone here and just came for a few supplies."
After some convincing, Daniel slowly believed that they weren’t there to rape his son and girlfriend. He finally took the group out of the sights of his nail gun. Brief introductions from both sides were given. Daniel explained he had been a construction contractor and was here with his family, picking up some lumber when the virus swept through.
"It was easy as hell to stay alive. When I first started hearing people scream in the store, I figured the sickness had jumped north so we climbed up onto the top racks of wood and stayed quiet." Hammer’s eyebrow raised and he answered before she could ask. "Yeah, a few people got up there with us, but eventually every single one of them thought they could make it home or do some scouting and none of ‘em ever came back. There’s water bottles in the drink machines, Slim Jim’s, and more than enough vegetable plants and fruit trees to keep the three of us pretty damn comfortable." Daniel suddenly looked as if he regretted sharing that much, as if he did not want to give his new guests a reason to take the place for themselves.
The Cora team glanced at one another and smiled. Randy replied, "Sounds like you got a good thing going, but you ought to come back with us, we have more food than the nine of us could ever eat and your kid will be completely safe."
He wanted to say something about Daniel’s skills being put to good use. The reassurance of safety would be a better teaser. "We are staying on the Viva Ancora and–"
"The pirate ship?" Hunter’s excited interruption was the first time he had spoken.
Randy knew it had just been decided. Hunter was going to be a pirate sailing on the open seas, or at least anchored in a locked lake. He smiled at the child’s enthusiasm and almost laughed when he thought about how much Mo hated the fact that anyone would be “interested in a fucking wooden sailboat."
Daniel was hesitant to leave his safe haven but just could not say no to his pleading child. The former construction worker helped the crew load an 18 wheeler with more than enough supplies to build every house in a subdivision. Georgia and Hunter went with Bradley to load a few personal effects and some potted vegetables into a Humvee. The boy spent most of the time playing with and asking questions about Mary.
☠☠☠
Sometime before lunch, everything was loaded and all present headed to their vehicles to make the trip back to the Cora. Hammer drove another stolen 18-wheeler. Dr. George drove the Humvee in front of her. Randy, with Bradley and Mary beside him and Daniel’s family in the back, took up the front of the convoy.
Their introductions had not been too detailed and he figured it would be best for the entire party to be present on the Cora, but had to ask a question. The elder Collins had always been sure to get the full name of everyone he met. "So what’s your last name, Daniel?"
He looked back at the man through the rearview mirror to see the look of embarrassment and consternation on Daniel’s face before he spoke. "You’re gonna laugh…it’s Daniels.”
Bradley chortled and Randy thought. “My son would love that.” But instead kept a straight face and replied. "There’s nothing wrong with that and it couldn’t be any worse than what my wife named my oldest…" He paused for effect before announcing: "ELMO!"
Mo Journal Entry 4
WE ALL SAT around the deck and listened to the Daniels’ family introductions. Most of us gave a brief introduction of ourselves. He sounded like a good guy and useful to have around, plus his girlfriend was pretty good-looking. I know I’m madly in love with Sarah and all that so I shouldn’t be having impure thoughts about another man’s woman. But this is my personal journal and if you haven’t figured out thus far that I enjoy detailing my shallow, chauvinistic, sexist opinions about the outward appearance of the fairer gender, I’m surprised you were able to read this far into a book that doesn’t contain pictures.
And no, it didn’t appear Smokes had dropped his infatuation with the gay cook for this tall blonde wearing "Daisy Dukes." I will say that Daniel Daniels is going to be extraordinarily handy in turning the island into an actual island. I need to remember to ask the zombie prophet if a group of survivors needs a Builder, or if his technical abilities and sudden appearance meant that we would lose Gene sometime in the season. Shit, he can’t die. He’s going to te
ach me how to play three-dimensional chess! The Builder is not an official title given by The Oracle, I just labeled him with that to distinguish him from The Tech. This means he is one step above an insignificant character but only because he has a very memorable name. Over all he is likable, but that probably means he is expendable.
We are surrounded by undead monsters and rather than fear being eaten, I’ve worked myself up over prophecies that Smokes has never even hinted at. My mom would find it hilarious and say that I am just like her own mother who could make herself feel horrible by thinking of something that hasn’t and isn’t likely to occur. I don’t think it’s remotely funny that I can ruin my own day by making shit up.
I heard Daniel in conversation. "Well, I’m sure we can find some dynamite at some of the chert pits around here."
My dad cut him off before he could explain. "No, we don’t need to blow up the causeways. We just need to take out one bridge per causeway to stop anyone coming onto the island."
Daniel reasoned logically. “We will need explosives for the river bridge and possibly the Panhandle.”
What? My ears perked up at the mention of explosives. I had been lost thinking about whether I needed to distance myself from Gene and get to know Daniel better and had not been following the discussion amongst the rest of the crew. My father and Hammer were, of course, again in agreement on leaving most of each causeway intact.
Daniel offered, "We could still go get the dynamite. It’d be a good thing to have." he added what was almost expected of him. "And I can build drawbridges for each causeway and the river bridge!"
That’s kind of the reason you’re here, Daniel. I know I’m not the only one that saw this coming. His usefulness was way too obvious.
My dad conceded to his new construction boss. "Not only for the Panhandle—dynamite might come in handy for other things as well. That’s actually a pretty good idea."
It’s easy to forget that the island is not actually an island. It is attached in the Southwest by a strip of land less than two miles wide. This left the question on more than one mind: "Panhandle?" I guess that term works as a descriptor, but the word makes me think “Florida,” not about a small city in North Alabama.
My dad started giving out orders like a military commander. He occasionally looked in the direction of Smokes, who would shake his head either "yes" or "no" as if choreographing the script. "That all sounds good. Daniel, you and Gene can take one of the Humvees and go look for some explosives."
Anticipating this, The Tech happily squealed in glee. "We can stop by some of the hardware stores while we’re out to look for aluminum shavings and iron oxide.” He stopped and waited for someone to say, "Hell yeah, that sounds awesome!" before noticing a few confused looks around the deck. He finally explained, "To make thermite!"
Daddy consented, nodding his head. "Could be useful. You do that, and the doc and Smokes can accompany me and Hammer downtown to do some scouting and scavenging. We can get those gun safes she told me about and install them in the courthouse."
All mentioned began nodding their heads in agreement. I was briefly worried he was going to call Smokes "the black man," but I guess he’s been doing some name memorization. For a minute there, I was convinced that I was going to have the day off when my dreams were dashed upon the rocks.
He pointed in my direction. "Mo, you and Bradley take the second Humvee to the Foodland right across the south causeway. See if there’s anything left worth getting."
Dammit! What for? We have two 18-wheelers full of food, and I don’t think we’re going to get anything on sale! Bradley started in my direction and my first thought was, "Thank God that place is paved." I again thought of Luke Skywalker strapping R2-D2 across his back in the jungle. Hell, if it came down to it Bradley could probably just walk on his damned hands while carrying me on his back.
"What if you get a flat tire?" I asked him as he rolled up.
"I’ve got some extra tubes in the back of the chair." He slammed his left arm against the backpack behind him. He added, as if embarrassed that he needed to ask, "Did you just see the scene in your head of Luke backpacking Yoda?"
I doubt it was convincing but I said, "No, of course not. I was just asking.” Maybe it had been Yoda, but Bradley reminded me more of the astromech droid.
I don’t think I could carry Bradley unless he wanted me to and even then, probably not very far. I have to say, wow. I’m going to have to tell Gene we got another Star Wars nerd!
At least I could take solace in the fact that there was a Big Lots in the same shopping mall. I would be able to pick up some beanbag chairs, some shitty lawn furniture, and a ton of generic Legos.
I stood to begin getting ready for our current quest. My dad looked in the direction of my mom and the assembled females of the crew. "Ladies, you will need to stay onboard and work on the garden and all that."
Fucking seriously? Gene and Daniel are going to ride around with a truck load of explosives, my dad and his crew are going to walk through a bunch of dark buildings, and Bradley and I are going to risk our lives at the grocery store. All while Crow fishes and the rest of the women drop seeds in Miracle-Gro. Okay, I’m probably not risking my life, but it is still creepy as hell to walk through a large, dark building. Ugh, the trials of having a penis. For a second, I feared my dad would tell them to "cook, clean, and knit,” but he was smart enough to know we would all suffer for that.
Speaking of suffering, I still felt shitty about Gene’s mom. I know she must have died days before I met The Tech because he told us he’d been holed up in his shop, so I doubt it would have made a difference if I had taken him to his house the first time he told me he wanted to go, but how could I know for sure? I can’t help but take some blame for her suicide. So far he hasn’t said anything to me and has completely avoided the subject of his family. I can only hope that’s because he is following the Jedi code, "There is no emotion, there is peace" and not bottling up his rage with plans to kill my mother. Jesus, I have some fucked up thoughts!
Before we began loading into the trucks, I made sure to whisper to my mom. "Teach Crow to cook something besides fish."
Her only response was to look at me confusedly and said, "But she is already a cook.” Like that meant a damn thing.
It really was amazing to watch Bradley get into a vehicle. He would race straight at the open passenger door from a good thirty yards away, spring from his seat at the last possible instant to grab onto the roof with one hand, swing himself into the passenger seat, then deftly grab the still-rolling chair with his other hand and throw it into the back, straight through a window that I could swear was too small for the chair to go through. And all of this with Mary serenely perched on his shoulder. I swear she turned to me and wordlessly asked, "What, you can’t do that?" and smirked.
I cranked the engine as the radio buzzed. "Logan, this is Gray Fox, do you read? Over."
"This is Logan. Coming in loud and clear, Gray Fox. Over."
You’ve got to be shitting me. When the hell did Gene get a radio call sign and what is mine? The Tech is fucking Wolverine, The Expert is in fairytales, I guess I’m Chopped Liver.
"I’m here too!" I’m sure I sounded really confident there.
The Builder and The Tech sped from the parking lot, followed by the Gorgon, and eventually by my nameless Humvee that coughed and STUTTERED.
Mo Journal Entry 5
THE EXPLOSIVES EXPERTS, Daniel and Gene, spent hours going to various construction sites across the county gathering what could find. After a short run with almost no explosions or stories of barely escaping with their lives, they returned to the Cora with a totally unsafe amount of dynamite and Gene’s beloved metal shavings. The rest of our mundane explosives would be saved for the canal we would be digging at the Southwest of Guntersville Island, then for our anti-climactic finale, destroying the river bridge.
There was really no point in clearing buildings when more naked animal-people were able to walk acros
s the causeways at night and take up residence in places we’d just cleared. It made sense to cut off all entry points before worrying about our neighbors. We figured the monsters holed up in their small, dark places would eventually either start eating each other or be hungry enough to come out and play during the day. It’s easier to shoot blind monsters in full daylight than hunt them down inside tight enclosures.
I can guess what you are thinking: "Oh no, how could you be okay with shooting defenseless sick people?" I haven’t gotten to that part of the story yet, but know that I’m getting there. Go ahead and put this journal down now if you are that much of a flaming pussy.
Anyway, apparently it wasn’t that difficult for the geniuses and a couple people who like to blow shit up to destroy two small bridges on each causeway. It didn’t even take a whole day and I only heard one explosion. I’m going to have to get some details on their adventures when they get a chance to tell the tale.
After a few hours of collecting their toys, they were already back at the Cora working on the fine details for the destruction of the big bridge. The one on the southbound side had already been completely destroyed when an 18-wheeler went through the outer barrier and caused a pileup. This somehow resulted in an explosion that vaporized it. They decided to build several barricades on the northbound bridge and would worry about blowing shit up later. We decided zombies wouldn’t be coming in regularly from the north.
"Tomorrow, our goal is to blow up the Panhandle,” was my dad’s way of ending our impromptu leadership meeting. I was upset that we had to destroy FLORIDA.
Mo Journal Entry 6
THE PARKING LOT for the shopping center was enormous. There was at least one restaurant, an old laundromat, and a bank all in one corner. There was also a grocery store, a Big Lots, a pet store, and several other smaller businesses. The parking area wasn’t dead–okay, it was technically dead, but there were actually a few cars left behind here. Some people just refused to believe the world was coming to an end even on the day it stood still; they had their errands to run.
