“You know we can take care of ourselves, right? That there’s no way we’re going …”
“Quiet,” I said straining to listen.
“No, you’re going to listen…”
“Shut up,” I hissed. I closed my eyes and focused on listening to my surroundings. The first thing I heard was Sarah’s angry breathing, then the frogs by the small stream to the east, and then there it was as if carried on the wind. The moans and grunts of the undead accompanied by the snapping of branches and the crackle of undergrowth.
I lifted my rifle and stared through the scope. I directed my gaze to the driveway and found nothing. I scanned the tree line to the left and found it clear. They were coming through the trees to the right of the driveway.
“Sarah, get inside…” I started to say.
“No. I’m…”
“Sarah,” I growled, “Go inside and wake everyone, get whoever wants to fight. Arm them, make sure the rest of the girls are locked away safe, and then get back up here. Make sure there’s a guard for the girls. We have Walkers, and from what I can tell, a lot of them.” She took off towards the ladder. “Bring me more ammo,” I called after her. I had a small box with me but I wasn’t sure if it would be enough.
I got down on my stomach and propped the rifle up. The prone position was the most stable to hold a rifle, and I didn’t want anything to get any further than the trees. I took aim, let out a breath, and squeezed the trigger. The silence of the night was suddenly shattered as my gun boomed. The air was soon filled with the steady rhythm of my rifle. Five down. Reload. Another four down. Reload. By then the others had joined me on the roof. I glanced at them and saw Sarah, Thomas, and Matt.
“Guys, they’re coming out of the tree line to the right of the driveway. I’ve kept them back, but we might have a problem,” I paused and took another shot. “We only have one scope that will work at night, and I don’t want you guys shooting blindly, it’d be a waste of ammo.” Another shot. “So you guys are going to take out anything that might be drawn in by the rifle fire that isn’t part of this main group.” I shot again and watched another body hit the ground. “Don’t let them near the house.”
They spread out across the roof and Sarah handed me another box of ammo. I thanked her and looked back towards the tree line. I rested my sight on the first head that poked out from between the trees and watched as the bullet burst from the back of its skull.
The Walkers were slow, and they stumbled through the blackberry bushes and over each other. They continued forward with mindless intensity, a singular driving force that pushed these creatures forward. One after another fell. The bodies piled up and were knocked down by the relentless undead.
I fell into a rhythm, a cold mechanical state where I aimed and fired with extreme efficiency. I refused to let them get any closer than they had already. I worked quickly to take each Walker down, but that didn’t stop me from making a note of each one. It might have been just what they were wearing or something that made them distinguished from the others, but each one was different and each detail managed to bleed through. It’s funny how the mind works. I knew they were dead, I knew they weren’t people, but before each shot, I wondered if the guy in the camo jacket used to hunt or if the girl in the cheerleader outfit was at practice when she died. Each kill came with a sense of recognition that these used to be people. After each thought I pushed it out of my mind readied myself for the next shot, for the feeling of the recoil and the smell of gun smoke.
Things began to slow down after twenty minutes of near constant shooting. There were fewer and fewer Walkers coming through the forest. I wouldn’t be going to bed anytime soon, but as soon as there was a five minute period without any sightings I went to check on the others. I flexed my hand, the pins and needles dancing across my skin, and worked my shoulder, the constant impact causing it to grow sore. Sarah and Thomas had managed to kill three Walkers that came from the other side of the house. I wondered if they could have been the neighbors. They lived a good distance away, but what was distance when you were dead and couldn’t get tired?
I keyed my radio, “Things appear clear, but I want everything locked down until morning.”
“Copy,” said Justin.
I convinced Thomas and Matt to go inside but Sarah refused. “Come on Sarah, it’s over.”
“What if it’s not?” she said, her eyes stull scanning the dark.
“Then I’ll radio you guys,” I said, lifting up the radio in my right hand. She didn’t look placated.
“Look, I’m spending the rest of the night on the roof, and if I’m going to do that then I’m going to need rested people to take over tomorrow. Go inside. Check on Michelle. She’s going to be scared. Go to sleep. You can be angry at me tomorrow.”
She reluctantly left and went down the ladder. I resumed my vigil over the tree line that was littered with corpses. We have got to get that wall up, I thought. Morning came without further incident, and as I climbed down from the roof I knew it would be a long day. I woke Thomas and had him take watch. It was seven in the morning, and I was ready for sleep, but there was too much to do. I woke everyone else and had them make breakfast. I had a cold cup of coffee to take the edge off and chewed my dry cereal without tasting it.
We went outside to clean up after breakfast. With gloves, masks, and garbage bags wrapped around our clothes we commenced with the gruesome task of body disposal. I passed around a small container of Vicks VapoRub. “Put some under your nose, it’ll help cover some of the smell,” I said.
We first dragged the three bodies closest to the house down to the burn pile, an area usually reserved for disposing of cardboard boxes and old Christmas trees. We stacked the bodies in a pile of old dry wood and cardboard from the pole barn. We went over to the tree line, where the majority of the Walkers had emerged, and began hauling them to the pile.
The body count was thirty-seven. I shot thirty-seven Walkers early that morning. That meant, taking into account that it wasn’t good enough to kill each one with a single bullet, I had reloaded at least ten times, and hadn’t even noticed.
We got the bodies piled together along with the wood and I doused them in gas. Standing back, I lit the pyre with a branch wrapped with a gas-soaked rag. The bodies caught immediately, burning hot. Soon the air was filled with the sickly sweet smell of burning flesh. To my horror, it reminded me of grilled pork. Some of us began to gag, the smell overpowering the Vicks, so we headed back up to the house, our dark task done.
Before heading inside we stripped off our protective gear. The guys shielded their eyes, the girls took off most of their clothes and headed inside. Having filled several containers for washing, the guys and I headed inside to clean up and wash away the smell of death that hung about. I reluctantly went to bed for a couple hours, knowing that fatigue would take away any edge I had left. I knew that there was just so much to do and that I really shouldn’t be sleeping, but I decided that when it becomes hard to see it's time to go to bed. The adrenaline had come and gone, leaving me feeling exhausted and drained. I think I was asleep before my head hit the pillow.
I had hoped to get a few hours of dreamless sleep, but my mind was far too creative for its own good. I’ve read accounts of soldiers, and noncombatants who were forced to kill, seeing the faces of those they killed. I saw no faces, at least not of those I killed. I dreamt of funeral pyres used by the Greeks, Romans, and Vikings of old. It was so vivid, so real. I walked amongst what looked like almost a dozen burning columns that lit up the night, each holding a single body.
I looked closer and saw that these weren’t strangers, these were my friends in the pyres. Their bodies were burnt and charring, but their faces were untouched by the heat and flames. My breath caught in my throat due to both the sweet tang of burning flesh and the realization of who these people were. I felt the heat of the great fires on my face and arms as I walked between each fire, confirming that each held one of my friends or one of my family. I don’t kn
ow how, but I knew that I had let them down, let them die.
I sank to my knees, it was my fault, I hadn't been strong enough, fast enough, or smart enough, and I had let them die. Their untouched faces seemed to be staring directly at me, accusing me of what I knew I was guilty of. I had killed them and I deserved a fate worse than theirs. Somehow, through the grief and anger which enveloped my mind, I noticed the crowd surrounding me. I could see them just beyond the light cast by the great fires Walkers. Thousands of them, just standing there, staring at me. I heard their moaning, the sound of their clicking teeth making my skin crawl. I inhaled deeply and slowly let out the breath. The first of the fires were going out, plunging the staring faces into darkness.
I had no weapon, I was surrounded, and I had no will to fight even if I had the means. I had failed, and my struggle was over. I could feel my failure sitting in my chest like a lead weight, every breath was harder than the last. One by one the flames went out, and soon I was drenched in darkness. I knew that with the darkness came my turn. I heard the shuffling feet and knew that the dead were no longer held at bay. I felt cold, clammy hands reach around my throat, unnaturally strong arms lift me to a standing position, and I could smell the rot in front of me. I was seconds away from death and I was unafraid. I was angry and ashamed, but not afraid. The Walker holding me opened its mouth and let out a death rattle, the sound sending pain through my very soul. I felt my leg kick out, my brain telling me I had to wake up. I let out a slow breath and watched as my hands shook. I clenched them tight, my knuckles going white as I tried to reel in my emotions.
Some people are scared of spiders or snakes, some freeze up at the thought of heights, and nearly everyone is afraid of death. Don’t get me wrong, dying would suck, I like living, but I’m not exactly scared of it. When my time comes, then it comes, and there is very little I can do about that. What scares me, what I am truly afraid of is being powerless. Looking on as the people I care about are hurt or are forced to suffer and being unable to help.
“Just a nightmare,” I whispered to myself. I shook my head, no, not a nightmare, a dream. I was living the nightmare.
CHAPTER 5
I glanced at my watch, I had slept for about five hours and I was starving. I got up and started to walk to the kitchen when I saw a sandwich and a note sitting on my dresser.
I made you a sandwich. I hope you feel better after your nap.
~ Michelle
I smiled as I picked up the sandwich and bit into the copious amounts of peanut butter and jelly. Not the best thing in the world, but it did the job. I headed outside, figuring that everyone would be working on the fence. I walked over to the group, stretched, and joined in the construction.
“Feel better?” asked Hannah.
“Much. Thanks. But why’d you guys let me sleep so long?”
“Um, maybe because you were awake the entire night shooting zombies and you were beginning to look like one yourself,” replied Sarah.
“Point taken,” I retorted with a yawn, my eyes watering and jaw cracking. I shook off what fatigue that clung to me and went to work.
By the time we were finished for the day we had run out of fencing and only had a couple more boards left. We would need to get more for the rest of the house, but to do that we would need a truck to transport it, and we would need better guns to get through town. The bolt action rifles weren’t going to cut it if there were going to be large groups around us.
The biggest threat to our situation was time. We didn’t have much before the Walkers in the city, the ones who were free to roam, would be leaving in search of food, in search of us. When that time came, it would be more than some forty-odd Walkers knocking at our door. We needed to finish the fence, and we needed better guns, but first I would have to check the current situation in Astoria. I was going to have to travel fast and light and I was pretty sure I knew how to do it.
I knew once I told the others of my plan I would catch a lot of flak, but it had to be done, for their safety.
That night I told them what we were going to do. First, I was going to go to the Fire Station in Svensen. A friend of mine usually kept his motorcycle there and I hoped that he would have forgotten it in all the confusion. A pang of loss sprang up inside my chest over yet another friend but I pushed it away, there was no time for it. After getting the bike, I would scout out Astoria and, if it was clear, we would use the same tactic that we used to rescue Michelle to grab what we could from a sports and outdoor store. As soon as I finished speaking the wave of objections washed over me. I waited until they were all yelled out and had calmed down. “This is the way it has to be. We need those guns.”
“But why do you have to be the one to go?” asked Hannah.
“Because I know the area, it’s my town. I know where I would have to go to lose the Walkers so they won’t follow me back here. Because I’m not willing to put anyone else at risk,” I said the last sentence with conviction and finality.
“Ok,” Jason said, nodding, “One change.”
“And what’s that?” I asked, ready to strike it down.
“You scout it out, but I’ll draw them away when we hit the store,” said Jason.
“You don’t know where to go,” I said.
“Then you can show me.”
“Do you even know how to ride a motorcycle?” I asked.
“Of course,” he said with a smile, “Come on James, let someone else be the hero for once.”
“You know it’s not like that,” I started, but all he did was laugh. “Fuck you,” I said, shaking my head. “Fine, tomorrow I’ll scout. Day after tomorrow, you’re the bait.”
“Deal,” said Jason.
“Does anyone else have a problem with the plan?” While the group shook their heads I watched Sarah. She stared at me and wouldn’t look away. I just smiled and finished my beer, I’m never going to get out of the doghouse, I thought.
The next morning Matt and I woke early and drove to the Fire Department in Svensen, just down the highway from the market we had emptied. Using a code to unlock the door, we went inside and opened the bay door manually, just enough so I could walk the bike out. The bike was a thing of beauty. A 2004 Yamaha Warrior, black with its chrome shining. I always wanted to ride it, but my buddy Terry wouldn’t let me go near it.
I secured my Beretta in its shoulder holster and drove towards Astoria. I didn’t have a helmet so crashing would be a bad idea, but I did have a thick black canvas jacket which would protect me from a minor fall. I passed my driveway and hoped that I would make it back in one piece.
As I got closer to Astoria I had to start weaving through stopped cars, some empty, others held undead passengers. How they got stuck in their cars I didn’t know, but I knew that to get our caravan through the maze they formed, would have to move them to the side.
As I neared the Hospital the cars on the road increased, as did the Walkers. I knew that I had to make this recon fast, getting as much info as I could and then get the hell out of there. I made it to Frank’s Outdoor Supply, darting between cars and the sidewalk to avoid cars and Walkers. I circled the store a couple of times to check out the surrounding area and then traced out the route I wanted Jason to take. His escape route would circle the entire town before bringing him back around to where we were. Hopefully, this would draw as many Walkers away from the heart of the town without bringing them to our doorstep.
With plenty of time on my hands, I decided to be proactive and see if I could lure as many Walkers away from our future position as I could. I drove over to the Youngs Bay Bridge and approached an empty, locked car. It was my best guess that the Walkers were drawn to sound, having been conditioned to think that sound meant possible food, so I used my pistol to shoot out the window and set off the alarm. I kept going until I had five cars wailing and hoped that as the Walkers attempted to reach the cars some would fall into the water.
I got away from the bridge, and as I headed home on a different route I passed several
zombies who ignored me in favor of the constant noise coming from the bridge.
“The raid is going to have to wait,” I called out when I got home.
“Why’s that?” Justin asked.
“Too many Walkers around the gun shop?” Christina asked.
“Nope. We could move on the town today, except the clogged highways would slow us down quite a bit.”
“So what’s the plan?” asked Jessica.
“The plan,” I paused and smiled at her, “is your plan.”
“What do you mean my plan?” she asked, stressing the ownership of the idea.
“We’re going to kill two birds with one stone. We’ll clear the highway and fortify the tree line at the same time. We’ll push hitting the shop back until we finish clearing the highway.”
“Sounds good to me,” Matt said eagerly.
Survivors Series (Book 1): Heroes Aren't Born Page 7
