The Farm

by Carter, Stuart

  “We’ll find out soon enough. Based on what’s outside at the moment it looks like they’re pretty indifferent.”

  The five of them moved up to the attic, and followed the tunnel into the next house. They were carrying all of the food that they could move conveniently and quietly, but they were still leaving stuff behind that they regretted. They had already established that the house was empty, so they walked straight down the stairs, through the kitchen and into the back garden. As Simon had suggested, there was a solid fence surrounding them. In a way it was good to be outside and breathing fresh air again, after so many days in doors. They couldn’t savour the feeling for long, as a cloud of smoke was drifting their way.

  “What do we do now?”

  “Maybe we should go back and get the rest of the food? No point letting it burn before we decide what to do next.” As no one had any real idea of their long term plan it made sense to keep hold of everything they had for as long as possible.

  “While we’re at it, should we check this house to see it they’ve got any better weapons? We’re looking pretty defenceless at the moment.”

  They laid their bags down in the corner of the garden, and went back into the house. Ruth and Simon took up the search for weapons, while the other three started ferrying food across from their own kitchen. There was only time for two trips before the fire started to engulf their house, but it was enough to get everything they had out of there. Ruth and Simon managed a couple of slight improvements to their weaponry, but found nothing to put too much hope on. The only other thing was the set of car keys that was hanging on a key rack in the kitchen.

  “With the house gone I think we need to make a run for it,” Ruth told them, barely audible over the sound of the fire. Force of habit kept her whispering. “We’re on the outskirts of the city. If we can get away from here and go West a bit there aren’t many people around. I think it’s pretty much mountains until you hit Carlisle in that direction.”

  “Do you think the roads will be clear? Is it safe to drive, or will the noise attract too much attention?”

  “This happened so quickly. I don’t think many people had the chance to flee. Mostly I think they were infected in their houses by the people they were closest to. Driving might be dangerous, but it can’t be any worse than staying here. We can’t hide any more, and we definitely can’t fight. I think running is our only option.”

  “OK. If we are going to do this we should do it quickly. We can get to the car while the noise and the smoke will hide our movements. Any objections to driving out of here immediately?” No one answered for a few seconds. “All right then, we’re going. Does anyone know what car those keys belong to?”

  “It’s the Ford Focus parked right in front of the house. It’s only a couple of years old, so it should be in pretty good shape.”

  With the decision made they moved quickly. Picking up everything they could carry, they moved into the house. It was piled by the front door. Lucy checked what was going on outside through the window, while the others got the rest of their possessions.

  “It looks clear.” Lucy said. “It’s hard to tell through the smoke. Hopefully if we can’t see them, they won’t be able to see us either.”

  “Let’s do this quickly. Who’s driving?”

  “I will.” Said Paul. He had the most experience behind the wheel, so Ruth handed him the keys without arguing. She had driven most of the big vehicles on the farm, but had no licence to drive on the roads.

  “Right. We’ll pile as much as we can in the boot, then we drive out of here as quickly as possible. If anything moves out there which isn’t us we get straight into the car and get away from here. No risks for a couple of bags of food.” The other four nodded at Ruth’s instructions. With a final check out of the window they moved to the door, picking up bags of food on the way, keeping one hand free to wield a weapon. Only Paul travelled light, with a set of keys in one hand and a hammer in the other, only a backpack of food weighed him down. He led the way and unlocked the car and opened the boot. It seemed to make far more noise than it should have.

  Simon threw his load into the boot and turned back towards the house. Natalie did the same. As Lucy turned she saw movement down the street. The thick smoke made it impossible to see anything clearly, even with the amount of light the fire was giving out. It was hard to make out what, if anything was out there. Ruth shoved the bags she was carrying into the remaining space, and as she turned, noticed Lucy’s hesitation. She looked in the same direction at the billowing smoke. Human shapes began to form in the darkness heading in their direction.

  Simon and Natalie were nearly back at the house when they heard Ruth’s shout to get back to the car. Simon was too close to stop himself diving through the open door and grabbing another handful of bags. Natalie stopped and turned to see what the shout was for, and saw the same figures moving at pace towards the car. She shouted at Simon to run. They were still closer to the car than the figures in the smoke, but it was getting close. The car’s engine could be heard roaring into life, over-revved in panic. Natalie ran, but Simon was not as close as he should have been, not appreciating the danger he was laden down until it was too late.

  By the time he was out of the house Lucy and Ruth were both in the back of the car, keeping the two seats nearest the house empty, with the doors open. Natalie was close to the car, and would get there before the advancing figures, but they had gained an advantage over Simon. He realized that he had left his fire poker in the boot when he deposited the first set of carrier bags. Bags of food were his only weapons. He dropped them and froze, unable to decide if it was better to get back into the house, or to try and reach the car. For a moment he was safe, as all attention focused on the sound of the car’s engine. A dozen could now be distinguished through the clouds of smoke.

  Simon was still standing paralysed as Natalie dived into the back of the car, and slammed the door behind her. She had made it with fifteen meters to spare. He saw the front door slam shut as well as the first of the infected slammed into the back of the car. The Ford lurched forwards, a combination of the impact and the driver trying to pull away too quickly. Paul narrowly avoided stalling, but recovered quickly, and the car leapt forwards. Without thinking Simon started to run in its direction, shouting for them to wait for him. It was enough to draw the attention of some of the zombies which had been focused on the car. Even if he could have outpaced them all in a straight line, as they turned in his direction, the straight line to the car was blocked. Finally seeing the danger clearly, he stopped and tried to turn back towards the house. It was too late. He was surrounded.

  The Farm

  The population at the farm had grown to uncomfortable proportions. There was no way that they could turn away anyone who came looking for safety with the stories they’d heard, but they couldn’t comfortably put a roof over everyone’s heads and the food and water situation was not looking so good. Modern farming methods relied on mass producing a very limited range of crops and livestock. The family brought in most of what they ate day to day. They sold what they grew. The crops to produce tons of flour was growing outside, but the means to process it and turn it into bread was miles away. Drinking water came from the taps that were no longer operational. The dykes around the fields were still flowing, but contained bacteria that their bodies were no longer equipped to deal with. Even excluding those with infected corpses lying in them.

  Everything was quickly running out. They were careful with every shot they took, but they had not started with much in the way of bullets and they were getting scarce. Early on they had used fuel to burn the bodies of the infected that they shot, but now regretted it as they had to limit the time when the generators could run, and the use of the tractors and other vehicles. They only ran the electricity for a couple of hours a day. For the first few nights they had kept floodlights on so they could see anyone approaching, but they switched them off when it became clear that the lights drew too much attenti
on, and the dogs seemed able to provide a far better warning so they could conserve their energy.

  It had been a tough couple of weeks. Hundreds of bodies littered the outskirts of the farm, not to mention the piles of ashes where the dead had been burnt before they had stated rationing the fuel. Corpses were tangled in the rolls of barbed wire they had laid down, and in the ditches that had already been in place, and the new ones dug. Constant vigilance, the faultless ability of their dogs to detect the infected and a low density of attacks had kept them safe, but their resources were running out. They were in an isolated area, but at some point larger groups from the bigger towns and cities were bound to appear. The steady drain on their resources was leaving them ill prepared to deal with it. Everyone could see the decline, but it was avoided in all conversations. Everyone preferred to think of the farm as an island of safety, where they could forget about the outside world.

  It couldn’t last. John broached the subject when he managed to engineer a situation where he was in a room with his father, the two policemen and a couple of the farmhands who his father had first recruited to the defensive duties of the farm. He did not risk the group being interrupted, jumping straight to the point,

  “We’re running out of a lot of stuff here, and the world outside isn’t looking like it’s getting any safer. We need to go off the farm. We need to do it now, while we’re still strong, and still well armed. We need to get all the ammo and fuel and food we can before it’s too late. There are a lot of people here to feed and protect now.” It was all said in a whisper, but it was powerful as it connected to something they had all been thinking.

  “OK son. Do you have a plan?” his father asked.

  “Not much of one. But we’re surrounded by other farms. If people are alive on them we can combine out strength. If not, they will have had guns the same as us. They will have had livestock or food. Until we know what’s around us we can’t plan much.”

  “I think it’s pretty easy to guess which farms have survivors on them. You just need to look at the numbers in our ditches. The Goddard’s are OK to our South. In the North East the Woodrow’s are still in control. We’ve been hit from every other direction.”

  “So we need to go and talk to our neighbours. But we need to approach carefully. They wouldn’t still be there if they weren’t ready to shoot to kill… For the farms that are overrun we need to get in there and take everything useful. But we need to be sure that they are over run. Any survivors need to be taken in.”

  “Do we start with the farms that we think are safe, or the empty ones that we can rob?”

  “We think about the living first. If the Goddard’s and Woodrow’s are alive we may be able to help each other. If the other farms are dead now, they still will be in a couple of days’ time. I think you’re right when you assumed which neighbours were safe and which weren’t. It’s the best information that we have.”

  As the sun rose the next morning four men were ready to leave the confines of the farm. They were working on the assumption that the farmland they were entering was safe, but they had no real evidence to support it. All they knew was that there had been no attacks from that direction. All four carried guns and some of their diminishing supply of ammunition. The team consisted of Andrews and Cooper, both wearing their police uniforms that were by now thick with dirt and sweat, John, and Tom, who had proven himself an extremely reliable shot. The two farmers took the lead. If there were survivors they hoped they would be recognized, so less likely to be shot at.

  They moved to the farm border on foot. This was no cause to break the strict fuel rationing. Work had been going on on their own side of the border in the last few days, but there had been no signs of movement, either living or dead on the other side. The sun was still low in the sky, slightly blinding if they looked in the wrong direction. They were heading south, so the sun was to their left, and to the right of anyone guarding the farm. Both sides should have a clear line of sight to recognize fellow survivors.

  They lay planks of wood down to bridge the ditch that separated the farms, and carefully climbed the fence to leave it undamaged to protect against anyone less coordinated. As each climbed over the barriers the other three covered them. Once clear they advanced slowly towards the farmhouse that they knew lay out of sight in the distance. As they walked they kept a keen eye on everything around them.

  The farm looked totally neglected. They saw cows dotted about, chewing on threadbare grass, unable to access the overgrown pastures in neighbouring fields. They looked malnourished, and there were a couple lying dead, covered in feasting crows. Tom branched off from the group and started opening gates, freeing up access to the necessary food. The cows had been long awaiting the opportunity to move through their usual rotation, and nearly trampled him in their rush to access the new pastures.

  “We should stay close together until we know this place is safe” Cooper berated him in a whisper.

  “We came here looking for resources.” Tom hissed back. “Those cows are no good to us dead.”

  “Neither are you.”

  John interrupted, “Quiet, both of you. We’re getting close to the farmhouse, and I think there are people moving down there.”

  The house was barely visible in the distance. To see anything as small as a person moving was impossible, but the other two obeyed and focused on the distant building. They continued to walk towards it, seeing no sign the area around them was being actively farmed. Animals that they saw were neglected, and the cereal crops that were the staple of the area were infested with weeds. It was obvious to the two farmers that if it wasn’t dealt with soon, most of the farm’s produce would be lost. The two policemen were entirely focused on the dangers that could present themselves at any moment and looked perturbed at the constant whispering about the work that was needed to get the farm back the way it should be.

  They walked another couple of miles across the flat, muddy ground before it became clear why they had seen so little activity from this direction. The house was surrounded. From a mile distant they all stopped to watch. All the windows were boarded up, and doors barricaded. They were under constant pressure from what must have been at least a hundred of the dead. Any new zombies would be drawn to this scene, but they had been unable to break through. Their focus showed that there must be survivors trapped inside.

  “What do we do?” Tom asked.

  “Sooner or later we’re going to have to deal with this crowd, and I’d rather do it while there are still people inside to save.” Replied John.

  “We’re short of bullets, and people that can get the best use out of them. We could put ourselves in a lot of danger if we get this wrong.” Cooper added.

  “If we don’t help the people inside then sooner or later that building will fall and they will all be heading our way. We need to take the fight to them while they aren’t looking at us.”

  “The four of us can’t cope with that many running at us. I really hope you have some kind of plan?”

  “Yeah. I’ve been thinking about this,” John said. “Sooner or later the towns and cities will be heading our way, and we’ll need to deal with the infected on masse. The only way that I can think of is to armour up the tractors and send them into battle. If we can fuel them and protect them they should be pretty formidable. This may be the time to test the theory.”

  “We have tractors and can find stuff to weld on to them, but where do we get the diesel?” asked Tom.

  “For this fight, we use what we’ve got left. The Goddard’s fuel tanks will replace it. Going forwards we need to start raiding the local area. Our farm won’t last forever. We’re too specialized to be an island.”

  They left Tom to keep watch while the other three returned to the Farm to prepare their attack. They wanted to be moving in on the same day to make sure there was a minimum of surprises. By mid-day they had a couple of tractors converted into rudimentary tanks, and were moving back towards the Goddard farm, this time bringing ev
ery available gun, and capable shooter. The tractors lead the way.

  The battle started long before they reached the farmhouse, as the noise of the heavy engines drew the attention of the besieging infected. They charged as a unit, but as they moved at different speeds with their awkward lurching run. By the time they reached the tractors they were well spread out, though they still moved with that shared purpose. Side by side the two vehicles aimed for the thickest part of the crowd and ploughed through. They heard the crunch of bones beneath the wheels as several were caught beneath them. As they turned they saw the blood soaked ground from their first pass.

  It was not the success that they had hoped for. The zombies were too far apart, and both tractors were already carrying unwanted passengers. The windows and doors were reinforced, but a morning’s work was not enough to make them impenetrable. Both drivers turned as sharply as they could, but they were moving too slowly to shake them off. A series of gun shots did the work as they lined up the next drive through. Again they flattened several of the dead, but again found they had additional company, and fists pounding against their windows.

  They anticipated the gunfire that would liberate their vehicles, but this time it did not come. The zombies had split up. The larger group still focused on the tractors, but now those on foot had become targets. Their fire was now focused on self-defence, where every gunshot, successful or not, created enough noise to draw another zombie away from the main battle. The tractors continued to crush as many of the dead as possible, aided by their willingness to throw themselves head first at the vehicles, but on either side of them they could hear the glass cracking. The drivers had the two hand guns that the policemen had brought to the farm, but using them meant smashing the glass that was protecting them.

  John was the first to feel an arm reach through the window and grab him, pulling him towards a bared set of teeth. By then he was driving over an area of farmland thick with churned corpses. Mud, blood and bone was all that could be seen on the ground, and smeared up his windscreen. He picked up his gun and fired it into the face of his attacker. He then turned and shot the one on the other side of the tractor, leaving both windows empty. The bars they had welded across hadn’t lasted long. With both wings of his vehicle exposed he swung back into the midst of the fight.