Hunting Season: A Zombie Survival Story

by Stoesen, Chris

  Mr. Buckley looked weak and tired. The fact he was still awake was a miracle to me. Now I had to figure out how to get both of us up that stair case. That will be a pain in the ass.

  He looked at me with an odd look in his eye. Opening and closing his mouth twice before speaking he finally managed to speak.

  “Why did she choose Peaches?”

  “Honestly, no idea, sir. She never told me.”

  He cracked a half smile and muttered, “Women.”

  He turned to me and gave himself a serious expression with a furrowed brow.

  “I have something to tell you about this illness.”

  He swallowed and took a gasping breath.

  “I spoke to one of the doctors at the CDC. It seems that it was released a while ago. You see, we are all…”

  I leaned in further to hear him better.

  “… already infected.”

  My eyes went wide and my mouth fell open.

  “What the fu…”

  The man suddenly choked out a laugh that turned into a cough.

  “I’m sorry. I used to watch that TV show. After this all started, I have been wanting to tell someone that but was afraid I wouldn’t get the chance. Didn’t mean to scare you like that.… Well, maybe a little bit.”

  My eyes narrowed and took a deep breath while praying for patience. Shaking my head, I walked upstairs to see what I could find to help us out.

  I ended up packing Mr. Buckley a small bag as I didn’t want to share my clothes with him. I also placed his rifle and a can of ammo by the door. We could go back for supplies later.

  I got two his sturdier heavy belts and looped two into a circle. When I made it back downstairs, Mr. Buckley was still laughing to himself for his little joke. I looped the belt over one shoulder.

  I had Mr. Buckley up and had him stand behind me. The plan wasn't going to work. I sighed as I had to take off the damn belt and loop it over both of us. We worked the belt under his butt and he put his arms around my neck. I stooped over and trudged to the stairs. Damn, this guy was heavy. I took five minutes to make it up to the turn in the steps. I had to lean against the wall and try to rest for a second. Then trudged up more. Thank God there was a rail. I pulled myself up the last three steps. Once in the kitchen, we stopped by the fridge and each grabbed a can of Coke. I rested against the counter with Mr. Buckley sitting on the counter. He was breathing hard. This had to hurt, but he uttered not one word of complaint.

  After our break, we moved on. By the time we reached the foyer, I deposited him in the goofy chair thing while we waited for the truck to show up.

  Mr. Buckley walked me through the controls to raise the roll up door. He also showed me where the remote was so we could secure and later get back in the house. This would make things easier.

  We waited in silence. My heartbeat returned to normal after the hike up the stairs. Mr. Buckley took a cat nap. Finally we heard the two beeps. I opened the doors and collected Mr. Buckley. By the time we got out the door, Sharon helped her Dad into the back of the truck. I grabbed his rifle and the ammo and threw them into the back of the truck. Once the doors were closed, and I had sealed up the house with the remote, we drove off. Sharon was in the back seat with her Dad. They hugged and spoke.

  Tyson punched my shoulder and gave me a smile. “You did well Daniel. Good job.”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  “You still have trouble calling me Tyson, don’t you?”

  I blushed and grinned, “You are still Officer Tyson even if you aren’t in uniform.”

  He laughed. By the time we made it home, the doc and Marty were at the door waiting for us. They helped Mr. Buckley into the house.

  Chapter 17: The Legion Hut

  Once Mr. Buckley was in the house, Officer Jefferson, OK, Tyson and I went back to the truck. I put Mr. Buckley’s rifle in the back seat. I drove this time. We took off to the Legion Hut. There were more zombies on the road this time. I counted forty by the time we reached the vet’s office. I stopped counting. When we reached the Legion Hall, I was more impressed than ever.

  The hall sat on top of a small hill. It was about thirty yards back from the road. There was a wall that surrounded and connected the buildings. There was one gate at the end of the driveway that linked it to the road. I could see movement. There were about thirty zombies banging on the gate. The metal gates had been reinforced with plywood to prevent the zombies from seeing in. Not sure if that helped as they seemed to smell more than see, in my humble opinion.

  On top of the main building was a large four barreled weapon. I knew it was called a ‘Quad Fifty’ by the Legionaries. It was four linked fifty caliber machine-guns that fired together. It was impressive to look at and even more impressive to see fire. Which it did. A group of zombies were starting up the hill to join those at the gate. The gun cranked up and fired a long burst that swept the group. There were about twenty in the group climbing the hill. After the guns fired, there was a pile of broken bodies. Some parts were still wiggling but none were advancing.

  There were other similar piles around the base of the hill. The old men in that compound were fighting hard.

  That gun was just plain awesome. Well, right up to the point when it pointed at me.

  A voice rang out from a megaphone somewhere from the roof of the building.

  “Halt, stay where you are. State your business.”

  Wow. That sounded like something straight out of an old war movie.

  I rolled down the window and shouted up to them.

  “Hey, I’m Daniel Jacobs. I have a group of survivors including a doctor and a little girl. We are looking for shelter. Can we come in?”

  The zombies at the gates had turned and came towards what they thought would be easier pickings. But this was the opportunity that the gunner on the quad fifty was looking for. Once they cleared away from the gate and wall, the fifty caliber guns opened up again and reduced the group to pulp. They were now only a greasy stain on the grass. The only problem I could see was that more zombies would be attracted to the noise from that gun. It had to be heard from miles around.

  A uniformed man stood and pointed at the side of the building where the wall was lower than the side of the building he stood upon.

  “Move your truck to the side of the compound. You can enter Firebase Freedom from there. We will lower a ladder for you to enter.”

  Firebase Freedom? What the hell? And people make fun of my handle. It isn’t that cheesy. Damn, that is just nacho cheesy with a side of queso dip. I looked closer at his uniform. It seemed to be an officer’s uniform with decorations. The guy had to have at least four rows ribbons on his left breast. Over his right breast pocket was two rows of ribbons. He was even wearing a tie. Whatever. Some people just can’t stop living in their glory days.

  Hell, I remember this dad at my school that still wore his high school letterman jacket for football. He showed up in it to every football game, even though he didn’t have any kids of his own. From the look of the guy on the roof, at least he did something useful based on the sheer number of ribbons on his uniform. A real been there, done that guy.

  Crap, this guy will think I’m a hippie. I haven’t had a haircut in a while. I was supposed to get one this week but I think my barber has probably been eaten. Not much call for a good haircut in the apocalypse.

  We drove up the hill and I had to drive over one of those patches of wiggling, writhing piles of broken zombies. The truck slid going up the hill before it could get traction again. Oh, how I wish there was a car wash handy. The under carriage has to be so nasty right about now.

  We pulled close to the wall and rolled down the passenger side window. Tyson had his police pistol belt on and I had my Ruger shoved into a cargo pocket again. We climbed out the open window into the bed of the truck. They lowered a ladder down into the truck and we climbed up. Once on the wall, they brought the ladder back up and laid it on the inside of the wall. The wall was about four feet wide so men could
use it as a fighting platform if needed.

  Once on the wall, the quad fifty opened up on some unknown adversary for a few seconds. Damn that thing was loud.

  We were waived on down a stair case and into the main building. All outward facing windows had been bricked up. The lights were on, otherwise this place would be as dark as a tomb. The main building was as I remember. It's a bingo hall. There were tables and chairs set up with a front podium area where they could call out numbers and a big light up board to show the numbers.

  They had a snack bar set up on one side that was serving food. They had hamburgers! Holy crap, I haven’t had a hamburger since this whole mess started. Double damn! They had fries too! How is this possible? I stood there with mouth open and eyes wide in wonder. I must have been about to drool when a laughing older man touched my shoulder.

  “Son, you can have some chow when you have checked in with the Colonel.”

  That shook me out of my dream state. I looked at the man who had touched me. He was about five foot nine and rail thin. He too wore a uniform, but it was more old fashioned olive drab fatigues than a dress uniform. His insignia was that of a staff sergeant in the infantry. I recognized little else about the uniform.

  We shook hands.

  “My name is Daniel Jacobs, sir.”

  The man replied glibly, “Don’t call me sir, I work for a living.”

  I laughed. The joke wasn’t funny and was older than the man in front of me, but it was expected.

  “Sir, my daddy would club me with a hammer if I didn’t show my elders their due respect.”

  That made the man smile. “Well, well. He raised you right. Come on, let’s meet the Colonel.”

  The colonel turned out to be Colonel Jefferson Davis Parker. He was the most senior ranked legionnaire in the Hall. Supposedly, we once boasted a two star general, but he was a World War Two vet and had died years ago. I think I did a report on the man back in seventh grade. Maybe. But Colonel Parker was a Vietnam vet from an aviation unit if I read his uniform correctly.

  Officer Jefferson, sorry, Tyson, shook hands with Colonel Parker. The two knew each other.

  “Glad to see you are alive Tyson. I feared that we lost all of our police and guardsmen when the roadblocks fell.”

  “I think we have. This young man saved my life. Daniel, meet Colonel Jefferson Davis Parker. One of the bravest men I know.”

  I shook hands with the Colonel and noticed that his ribbon bar had a silver star and bronze star ribbons. The bronze star had two oak leaves on it. That meant that earned the bronze star three times. It also had the ‘V’ device which meant valor. This guy had seen combat before and lived to tell the tale.

  “Pleased to meet you, sir.”

  “That voice. Are you the one going on the radio as Angel something?”

  “Uh, yes, sir. How did you know?”

  “We are monitoring radio traffic. We aren’t responding to anyone to be on the safe side but we have been listening to you and knew you saved the veterinarian and just now rescued that crazy man from his home.”

  That was disturbing. They were listening in but not letting anyone know it. What the hell?

  “Sir, why were you only listening?”

  “Good question. We are rather trapped inside. All of our vehicles are inside the compound. Since the day after this started, we gathered all that we could inside and have had enemies at the gates ever since. Thanks for drawing those at the gate off of us. We lack night vision equipment and at night, there are always a few at the gates. Opening the gates is too risky and might let some get in. We have no ability to respond. Also, we don’t want to let just anyone in. If we broadcast, we don’t know who else is listening.”

  I nodded in understanding. It was selfish, but I could understand.

  “Who is all in your group?”

  “We have Officer Jefferson, our resident policeman; Mr. Buckley, he has a broken leg; Sharon, his daughter; Doctor Heather McCauley, the vet; and Gretel, a little girl, not of the faerie tale one.”

  The last part made him laugh. He shook his head for a moment to regain composure.

  “You are all welcome here. Bring what supplies you have. Ours aren’t unlimited. Go ahead and get some chow.”

  “Sir, the road has a bunch of zombies on it. From my house to the vet’s office, I counted forty. Then stopped counting. If they keep moving like this, we can expect hundreds to thousands in the next few days. No telling how many from Atlanta are headed this way. I checked some of the ones we killed near my place and they have been wandering in from the city and other suburbs. We have yet to see a large herd, but I wonder if that is only a matter of time.”

  He nodded sagely and had an expression that said I had told him nothing new. He patted my shoulder and Tyson and I left to get some food. It was the best burger and fries I have ever had. Or at least it felt that way. The meat was wonderful. Savoring every bite, it took a while to finish the burger. The fries were equally good. I felt guilty that the others weren’t enjoying such a feast.

  “How are we going to get everyone here? I can’t get everyone in the truck at once.”

  Between bites, Tyson responded. “I can ride in the bed with you. Gretel and Mr. Buckley in the backseat while Sharon and Doc McCauley ride up front and drive. We will pack the guns with us in the trunk, we can make it. Supplies can wait till later. Not sure about her horses.”

  With that, he stood and ran after Colonel Parker. I stayed and finished eating. Looking back at the chow line, I saw they had ice cream. I had to have some. When I returned to my seat with a tall soft serve cone, Tyson returned. He eyed me as I took a slow loving lick of the tall cone.

  “Enjoying that a bit much, aren’t you?”

  I waved a hand at him but wasn’t rude about it. Those few simple moments of pleasure were so good. By the time, I ate the slightly stale cone, I sighed in pleasure. I leaned back with eyes closed and loved the feeling of being pleasantly stuffed.

  “Come on, we need to go.”

  I got up and followed Tyson out.

  We made it back into the house without too much difficulty. There were more zombies on the road than before. I worried about the trip back. We backed into the driveway to make it easier to load the truck. There were five zombies in the yard. I stepped out and dispatched them with single shots to the head with my pistol. The door opened with the pistol shots.

  It didn’t take long to explain the plan to everyone. We loaded the bed of the truck with our supplies. I think we had close to two thousand rounds of ammo for the AR’s. No telling how many rounds of twenty-two we had. We loaded up the rifles and what food we had. There was barely room for Tyson and I. Sharon got her dad and Gretel in the truck. She rode up front with Marty. Gretel, Mr. Buckley and the Doc were in the back seat. Tyson and I shared the bed of the truck. Once all loaded, we had to hook up the trailer. Tyson covered me while Sharon and I accomplished the task. Tyson only fired seven shots. After that, we got on the road.

  Both Tyson and I held AR’s. I had Mr. Buckley’s while Tyson held mine. When we pulled out on the road, we noticed a large group on the road. They had arms raised and stumbled towards us. Tyson and I fired a couple of shots towards the group to slow them down as we sped off.

  It was only about an hour until dark. The gloom of dusk was approaching. There were a few more stains on the grass surrounding the Legion Hall. The gates opened, and we drove in. The doors closed immediately behind us.

  Doc McCauley tended her horses while some of the younger legionaries came out and helped Mr. Buckley into the smaller of the four buildings that made up the compound. They had designated that building as the aid station and had a sign over the door to that effect.

  The third building was still the bar. Hours were posted on the door when it was open for those off duty.

  Sharon, Marty, Gretel, Tyson and I stood by the truck. Colonel Parker came over and looked at what we had brought.

  “You may keep your weapons. I'd appreciate
it if you would add your ammo to our armory. You may keep five magazines of ammo each.”

  He pointed to the beta mag was in the AR I was carrying, “Besides that big one you have.”

  “That seems fine to me, sir.”

  “Oh, you can also keep all the twenty-two. We have nothing that fires twenty-two here.”

  Once the supplies we brought were distributed, they took us to what would become our quarters. They were underground. The Legion had catacombs cut underneath it. Sharon and I were given a room together. I couldn’t believe my luck. Colonel Parker just shrugged and said something about inevitability or something to that effect. Sharon blushed but didn’t argue. Gretel got the room next to ours. She had a room mate was about her age named Holly. She was a granddaughter of Colonel Parker. I’m thinking they were put there to reduce my desires and curb temptation. Then again, maybe not as the Colonel gave me a wink on the sly. The doc had the room across the hall from us and Tyson was rooming with another legionnaire.

  We were given the grand tour. We found out that anyone over 15 could drink in the club. The reason for that was if you would fight like an adult, you should be able to drink like one. Fifteen was the age of the youngest fighter in the compound. All the other children were younger and seemed too scared to want to fight.

  There was an outside exit from the underground portion at the base of the hill. It was located in the woods behind the Legion Hall, next to a small stream. This was the point of egress they used for scouting missions. They had a small patrol that was out scouting and looking for supplies. Colonel Parker said there were five men. Two Gulf War vets and three teenagers who had made it into the compound the first day of the troubles.

  They showed us the quad fifty and the roof access to all the buildings. The underground areas were designed in a grid. There were three rows of halls with a hallway connecting across the top and bottom of each one. The center hallway was the senior officer’s quarters. Our hallway was the west wing. There were more rooms to the east wing. Rooms lined both sides of the hallways. Colonel Parker said they have room to hold five hundred men. Everyone was assigned shifts to man the walls or work in the mess-hall or bar. The aid station also served as the radio room. There was a small room that served as the radio room in there. We brought only the smaller of the radios with us and left the big one back at my house.