Zombie Civilization: Genesis (Zombie Civilization Saga)

by Steven Ehrman

  “Maybe we shouldn’t move him.” I said.

  “Billy’s right,” said Jude. “I took a class one time that said that.”

  Harley looked up at us. “Boys, that’s only for spinal injuries. I don’t think Steve’s back is broken, but he might be bleeding to death right now, and we’ve got to take a look.”

  Steve’s eyes flickered open and he said softly, “Please, please, don’t move me. Please, God no.”

  I stared at my boots and was aghast at what had happened to our little group in such a short time. If Steve died out here, how would we explain it to everyone back home?

  By this time, Harley had managed to get Steve onto one side and was examining him. I was sick to my stomach and could not look. I noticed that Jude likewise had turned away. Holland hadn’t joined us at all and was standing by the lifeless corpse of our ursine villain. Out of the corner of my eye I noticed Harley’s body began to shake. If he was going into shock at the sight of Steve’s injuries, it could only mean the injuries were critical. I closed my eyes and said a silent prayer.

  At that moment, Harley began to laugh uproariously, grabbing his stomach and throwing his head back. His laughter grew and was echoed back to us in the glade. As Harley’s laughter intensified, I began to think he was having a fit of some sort. I was completely at sea wondering what was in Harley’s head and what to do. Jude and I exchanged a glance, and I had just about decided to attempt to restrain Harley, not that anyone had ever done that before, when Harley mastered his laughter long enough to sputter.

  “He barely scratched you, dude! Your shirt is in worse shape than you are!”

  As Harley rolled on the ground laughing, I roughly grabbed Steve’s shoulder and rolled him over. Harley was right. The claws of the bear had torn Steve’s flannel shirt, but he only had a few scratches on his back. I did a quick examination to make certain that there were no deeper puncture wounds that we were overlooking. It took less than a minute to confirm Harley’s diagnosis. By this time Jude was breaking up in laughter and Holland jogged over to join in the fun. I smacked Steve on the head.

  “You’re not wounded you, big baby. Get up and never scare me like that again.”

  Steve began to pat himself all over.

  “I am bleeding I tell ya. I can feel it. The pain was awful. I need medical help, guys.”

  “You need about ten cc’s of suck it up is what you need,” I said. “You’re not wounded. You barely have an ouchy.”

  “I’ve hurt myself worse shaving,” said Jude, as we all began to jeer poor shaken Steve.

  Harley jumped in. “It just knocked you down. Same thing probably happened to you at the last white sale you went to, Mary. Black bears aren’t dangerous to humans. This one’s natural instincts only kicked in when you bravely ran away.”

  “That’s right,” I said quickly. “You went `every man for himself’ pretty fast there, didn’t ya, buddy? What happened to one for all and all for one?”

  By this time, Steve had made it to his feet and was in the process of dusting himself off.

  “I thought I was a goner, man,” he said sheepishly. “It was pretty bang bang, and that thing was heading right at me. Any one of you toads would have done the same. Don’t deny it.”

  Steve was probably right, but he was in for a lot more ribbing before we were going to forget this day. We continued to laugh, and at first Steve’s face grew redder until the dam burst, and he began to laugh as well. We were all such good friends that we could laugh with, and at, each other with no hard feelings.

  Steve suddenly stopped laughing and glared at Harley.

  “Wait a minute. If I wasn’t in any real danger, than why did you take that shot? You were a ways off. What if you’d missed?”

  “I gotta tell ya, Steve, missing never occurred to me,” said Harley with a laugh.

  There was a moment of tension, and then Steve burst out laughing and we were all on another laughing jag.

  As our mirth began to subside, I noticed that Harley had fallen away from the group and was examining the bear, squatting on his heels by the bear’s side.

  “It looks like a juvenile male to me. Probably no more than 150 pounds, give or take. They’ve been spreading up from West Virginia for the last decade or so. This one was probably trying to stake a territory for himself. He probably didn’t have a ton of experience fending for himself and our camp had free food written all over it. Take a closer look at his paws, Billy.”

  I bent down and saw the bears claws were a bluish grey and were thick at the base and tapered down to fat rounded nubs at the end.

  “These are the claws of a digger, not the slashing claws of a hunter bringing down large game,” lectured Harley. I dutifully listened, since Harley was our wildlife and outdoors expert.

  “What do you think we should do?” I asked. “Should we bury him?”

  “No,” said Harley slowly. “I think we should pack up, break camp, and see if we can find the nearest game warden”

  “What do we need with a game warden?” asked Jude, who had joined us in time to hear the last part of Harley’s recommendation. “I just want to get out of here, and I’m sure Steve and Holland feel the same way. Let’s just let nature take care of the body, and go home.”

  I started to nod in agreement, but Harley was all ready shaking his head no.

  “Boys, it ain’t legal to kill these bears in Ohio. We’ve broken the law. You get it?”

  “Don’t you think that under the circumstances whoever the warden is in these parts would give us a pass?” I asked.

  “Maybe,” Harley said, as he rubbed his chin whiskers. “But if we run like we did something wrong, what are people gonna think? I’ll tell you guys, at the very least we are gonna catch some crap for keeping such a sloppy camp that drew the bear to us in the first place.”

  I paused and gave some thought to our situation. Harley was right. Running would imply guilt and we had not kept our camp in ship shape. I thought about all the alcohol we had brought with us on the trip. Now, we had never used firearms under the influence, but I could see how a case could be made that we were a bunch of drunken yahoos who had come up into the hills and shot everything in sight, including this black bear. I took a couple of cleansing breaths and decided on our course.

  “Harley is right. We have to report this. We may get a lecture on proper camping, but a bear in these parts is rare and I don’t think we will be roasted for not planning our campsite with one in mind. We had better just get packed and get started back. We can figure out every thing else on the way. We gotta long walk out anyway.”

  “Yeah, I think Billy’s right,” chimed in Jude, and with that, we quickly returned to our tents and began to break camp.

  Chapter Four

  After our initial amusement, at the folly of Steve’s over dramatized antics, each of us grew silent and I think we each began to reflect on how close we had come to a truly horrific ending. If the bear had been more aggressive, if it had been a female with cubs, or if Harley had missed and hit Steve, or someone else, when he shot at the bear, Harley’s confidence in himself aside, the day might have ended on a tragic note. We were so vulnerable this far out to any sort of emergency and we had no cell phones, even if reception was available. It gave me pause to realize how much we counted on being able to call for help at a moments notice during our everyday lives.

  Within an hour we had broken camp and with our packs lighter than when we had made the journey in we, as a group, began to feel more at ease as the near tragedy ebbed into the distance. It would make a good story someday, I was certain.

  The sun began to brighten in the sky and the temperature, especially with us hiking, started to feel very warm despite fall slowly fading into winter. It had been a hot summer and the winter was predicted to be unusually warm as well. Thank you, global warming. Each man began to perspire as we reached the midpoint of our six mile hike. Harley was mopping his face with a towel he had pulled out of his pack and was whistli
ng happily. Holland seemed half asleep and was walking somewhat to the left of the group, while Steve had fallen back a piece and was bringing up the rear. Jude, who liked to think of himself as our squad scout, was on the point about fifty yards ahead.

  We were entering what the locals called the low country, although it was still pretty hilly for a flatlander like me. We had come into a meadow that was lush with high grass, when a breeze blew up that made the grass ripple like passing waves.

  “Is that beautiful or what?” I said, to no one in particular pointing at the undulating vegetation.

  “It is probably filled with ticks,” replied Harley. “They sit on plants, shrubs, and whatnot, waiting for some poor warm blooded critter to come by and catch a ride and a few meals.”

  I scowled in fake anger.

  “Okay, I am no longer talking to you, Mr. Practical. My friend Jude can appreciate the beauty without ruining it with details. Ain’t that right, Jude?” I said, raising my voice and turning towards our scout, but Jude’s attention was elsewhere.

  He had stopped walking and had his binoculars focused on a treeless ridge to our right, some mile or so off, as near as I could figure. It was hard to judge distance in these hills sometimes. As I was reaching for my own set of binoculars, I saw Harley raise his rifle to a shooting position and use his scope to focus in on whatever had Jude’s attention.

  By the time I got my binoculars out, Jude had rejoined us.

  “What in the world is that, guys?” he asked, with genuine puzzlement and some amusement.

  I finally focused in the binoculars and found a strange sight. I thought I had had enough shocks for one day, but this new one almost floored me. There was a middle aged man, in what could only be a hospital gown, walking aimlessly on the ridge. As far as I could tell he was wearing no shoes, and even though we were sweating, this was not barefoot weather, but the grass was fairly high and it was possible that he did have footwear, but he looked like an escaped mental patient.

  As we watched, Steve and Holland joined us.

  “What do you see, man?” asked Steve.

  “Take a look for yourself,” I replied, handing him my binoculars. I noticed Harley was still looking through his scope at the figure.

  “Buddy, put that gun down. That poor man is gonna think we are hunting him The Most Dangerous Game style,” I scolded.

  “He can’t tell what we are doing from this distance, and my scope is more powerful than any binoculars you guys got.”

  “You’re wrong about that, my friend,” said Jude.

  “Waddya mean?”

  “He’s spotted us, guys, and he doesn’t look any too happy about it,” Jude said, with a grin and pointed towards the figure.

  I put my binoculars to my eyes and could clearly see the man was pointing towards us. His lips were moving, but we were too far away to hear him and the wind was blowing towards the man, dampening any sounds from that direction.

  “Well, that’s just great,” I said with disgust. “He has seen us pointing a gun at him. How do you think that is going to mesh with the other mess we made up here? It makes us look like boobs, that what it does. Guys down from the big city, and believe me that’s what we are here, blowing in and being reckless as all get out. We’ll be lucky if we all aren’t in jail by tonight”

  Everyone, but Jude, was staring at their feet by the time I had finished. I was mad and I didn’t care if I had hurt their precious feelings. We were up against the wall now.

  “It looks like he wants to talk it over with us,” said Jude.

  I took another look and sure enough it appeared the man was trying to descend down into the ravine that separated us. Harley started to raise his gun for a look, stopped halfway up, and changed his mind.

  “Well, we’ll just have to wait for him here and explain. Maybe he’s in trouble and we can help,” I said.

  “I think Billy’s right,” said Jude to no ones surprise.

  Holland and Steve were nodding in agreement when Harley spoke.

  “Guys, look at the terrain,” he said gesturing towards the ravine.

  All of us automatically looked as Harley said and I noticed just how rugged the country was.

  “Fellas, we may only be a mile or so as the crow flies from this guy, but by foot I’ll bet it’s closer to three. The grade in some parts of this ravine must be close to 60 degrees and the bramble, thistles, and briars will rip anybody to shreds that tries to bull their way through.” Harley finished the last part in a rush and I noticed he was breathing hard. I had never seen Harley scared, but I wondered if maybe he was a little spooked.

  “It would take hours to hook up with this guy, and who knows if we could find him, even if we wanted to. I say we push on to the truck and let the people there know about the man and contact the authorities if need be.”

  “He’s gone,” announced Jude in a calm voice.

  I looked through my binoculars again and Jude was right. The figure had disappeared. He probably was in the brush heading towards us, but there was no way of knowing. If he really was mentally disabled, we needed to get back to civilization as fast as possible and get help. At the very least we needed to be the first people to tell our story. First one in usually carries the most weight.

  As I was coming to that conclusion I noticed the others were all looking at me.

  “Your call, Billy,” said Jude and the others nodded.

  I took a deep breath and hoped I was making the right decision for all of us.

  “We’re gonna push on towards the truck,” I said, with what I hoped sounded like confidence. I heard an audible sigh of relief come from at least one of my friends. “Once we’re there we’ll contact the sheriff and the game warden and whoever else we need to and get all of this off of our laps and into someone else’s lap. I don’t like this kind of mud in my folder, boys. Come on. Maybe we can clean our windshields yet and get out of this godforsaken country by nightfall.”

  “Went from paradise to hellhole pretty quick didn’t it there, Billy?” said Jude with a straight face. “That’s okay though, buddy, I think I’ve had my fill of the great outdoors too.”

  “Keep quiet and take the point again, soldier.”

  “Yes, sir,” he said and off he went. The kid was a weeble, you just couldn’t knock him down.

  “I’ll hang back a little in case our friend catches up with us,” said Harley.

  “All right, but let’s not get strung out too far here, okay, guys?”

  Everyone nodded and off we went. Ten minutes later I realized that I couldn’t see Jude ahead of us, or Harley behind us. I was starting to think it really was lonely at the top.

  Chapter Five

  We continued on in some silence, with occasional grunts from Steve. He still had a bum ankle, and even though the bear had certainly not mauled him, he must have been sore from head to toe. I was having second thoughts about leaving the man back at the ravine. I glanced over my shoulder and still did not see Harley.

  “I told him to stay within sight of us,” I muttered. “You don’t think he could have gone back by himself to look for that guy, do ya, fellas?”

  Holland merely shrugged and kept moving, but Steve seemed thoughtful.

  “I’ll tell ya, Billy, the guy didn’t seem to move like he was mentally handicapped. I didn’t want to pile on the guy, but I thought maybe he was drunk or high. God knows how many stills and meth labs there are hidden in these hills,” said Steve.

  I thought stills disappeared along with the Edsel, but there were certainly drug labs in isolated parts of the state like this. It was a thought anyhow. All the more reason to get out of these hills and back to the blacktop. Last thing we needed was trouble from drug runners, even if we were armed. I took another glance over my shoulder hoping to see Harley’s bulky form coming, but no such luck.

  “I have another idea,” volunteered Steve. “I thought about it when Harley said he would bring up the rear. What if this guy was an Alzheimer patient? You k
now Harley’s dad was in long term care with Alzheimer’s for years before he passed. Harley hates that disease with a passion.”

  “What are you suggesting?” I asked.

  “I’m not suggesting anything. I just think it is odd that Harley argued to keep moving and then volunteered to stay behind, that’s all.

  I considered it for a moment. It did seem a little contradictory of Harley. I always did have a tough time getting a read on him. I realized that Holland and Steve seemed to be waiting for me to say something. I shook my head emphatically.

  “Listen, guys, we are chasing our own tails here. If we don’t stop it, we are going to get paranoid, fast. Harley’s back down the trail somewhere following his own lead as always. He’s a big boy, and well armed, and he’ll catch up to us when he’s good and ready.”

  “Well, should we fire off a shot then, Billy?” asked Steve.

  “No, and don’t beat drums or set off flares. Let’s just keep moving. Maybe we’ll even catch Jude before the day is out.”

  We walked in near silence for another half hour when I spotted Jude’s form walking back down the trail towards us. I wasn’t mad at him for racing ahead and. in fact, I was so glad to see him I broke into a wide grin. He had his hat pulled down low to shade his eyes and I waited for his characteristic greeting, but he seemed lost in thought and said nothing as he approached.

  When he was just a few steps away he looked up. Something was wrong with him.

  “Jude, you’re white as a ghost. What’s happened?” I asked with concern. “Have you seen Harley”?