Hunting Season: A Zombie Survival Story

by Stoesen, Chris

  Once given the tour, Sharon, and I were assigned the morning watch. They called it something else that I didn’t understand at first until they said, “be on the wall at six in the morning.” That I understood. Sharon and I retreated to our room. We both changed clothes. It was the first time I got to see her naked. She was even more beautiful that I had imagined. She had made me turn around so she could have privacy but I peaked and I admit it. I’m probably a terrible person but I don’t care. I love that girl and I can’t stand it.

  After I changed into some clean clothes, we hugged and kissed but we soon fell asleep. It had been a long and stressful day. We figured tomorrow might be more promising.

  Chapter 18: Cowards and Heroes

  I had the best dream. It was a dream I have had almost continuously since I started dating Sharon. We were making love on a beach somewhere. But something wasn’t right. There aren’t supposed to be gunshots on a beach in Maui. Nor should there be people cussing rather violently.

  I stirred but kept up with this great dream. Well, I tried until something slammed against the door and someone loudly shouted, “Oh, Fuck!” Then a pistol shot sounded right outside of the room.

  That woke me right up. I found that I had an arm around Sharon and was holding her breast while pressed up against her. She too woke up with a start and pushed my hand away.

  “What was that?” she stammered.

  I popped out of bed and grabbed my pistol. I checked to make sure a round was in the chamber, held it up and swung the door open. There on the floor was a man in uniform that was missing the top part of his skull. At his feet was a young-looking zombie eating his leg. Wait a minute, I knew this zombie. There he was in all his blonde-haired glory was quarterback Billy Pearson. He was looking worse for wear since I saw him back at the house. First off, he had no pants and no shoes. His bare butt was raised up in the air as he ate. It was not a pretty sight. His legs were covered in dried blood. Some zombies you can't help but imagine how on earth they ended up like they did. Billy's story, I'm sure, would not be rated PG by the motion picture industry.

  A quick shot put Billy out of his misery. I looked down the hallway to see chaos in every direction. Sharon was out of bed and looking for a weapon.

  “Hey, use this.” I threw her the twenty-two and grabbed my Glock 30 from atop the pile of my stuff I dropped when we moved in. Grabbing a spare magazine, I shoved it in my waist band.

  I pivoted into the hallway looking to the left first. There were three zombies headed towards me. How the hell had they gotten in here? I fired slow steady shots and scored with each round. The boom of the short-barreled pistol was deafening. I think Sharon was yelling something but my ears were ringing badly.

  That is when the pain hit. There were three sharp pops from the twenty-two that made it past my ringing ears. My calf had a piercing pain then burned. I tried to turn to see what happened. A zombie was laying at my feet with two holes in its forehead. I looked down at my leg and saw I had been shot through the calf. Toppling to my knees, I felt as much as heard steps behind me. Throwing myself on my back, I fired four quick shots down the hallway. There were only two zombies and one I missed the head. That one, I hit in the shoulder. It turned its body with the impact but didn’t fall down. I took aim this time and then Sharon appeared I the doorway with an ashen face and was in my line of fire.

  “Get back in the room!” I shouted.

  Her eyes went wide, and she ducked back in. As soon as the shot was clear, I fired. Score. The thing crumpled to the ground. I then arched my back and threw my hands over my head to check out the corridor behind me. There was shooting and shadows. Nothing else.

  Sharon poked her head back out of the room. “Are you OK?”

  The sound of her voice seemed as if it were underwater. I shook my head in the affirmative.

  “Yes. Get in the room and lock the damn door. This place is overrun. I will help the others.”

  Sharon shook her head no.

  I pulled myself up to my feet and went to her. I grabbed her shirt, gave her a kiss and pushed her in the room. Quickly, I pulled the door shut.

  “Please, just stay in there,” I yelled at the door.

  Not knowing what to do, I flipped a mental coin and headed down the left side of the hall from my room. If I had a key, I would have locked her in. I stumbled down the hallway on my wounded leg. The calf was bleeding like a stuck pig. The doors to either side of me were closed. No time for room clearing now. I made it to the end of the hallway and looked to the right. The left just ended in a doorway that was open. A quick check showed it was a small empty room. Maybe a storage closet or something. To the right was pandemonium. Elderly men locked in mortal combat with zombies. I watched as they were overcome. I couldn’t fire into the group without risking hitting one of the men who had offered us shelter. But they were dying anyway. I raised the Glock and fired slow, aimed shots.

  My aim sucked. The wound in my calf was burning and throbbing. I ended up hitting my targets, but the slide locked back on an empty magazine too fast. I dumped the empty and slammed in a full one that caused the slide to slam forward.

  The group of undead in front of me now had their eyes locked on me. They were moving my way. I took a step backwards and crumpled to the ground. My leg gave out on me. I hit the ground hard and reflexively squeezed the trigger. Thank God the barrel was pointed in the safe direction of down the hallway. No telling what I may have hit.

  I pointed the pistol and fired again at the lead zombie. The shot was low and took the creature in the throat. It seemed to have impacted the spine as the head flopped to the side with little to support it. Then it fell over like a Georgia pine in a storm. It did nothing to stop its fall and slammed its head into the concrete floor. It provided a useful stumbling block for the ones behind it and I scuttled back into the room. I pulled the door shut and leaned up against it, breathing heavily.

  The room was small with concrete walls, floors, and ceiling. A single bulb dangled from above, with a switch on the wall. My back was against the wooden door. My breathing was hard and labored. Blood dripped from the wound on my calf. The bullet graze was painful, but not life threatening. I prayed that I had lost them. There were so many. That was when the door knocked against my head and threw it forward. They found me and were pounding on it to get me.

  The beating on the door increased. Pushing the eject button of the Glock, the magazine fell free into my hand. Looking at the holes on the side, I had seven more rounds, including the one in the chamber. I slammed it home. The impacts sounded like a mad drummer performing a solo. I could hear the wood creak and then crack.

  Scuttling crab-like, I turned and scooted backward till my back came in contact with the wall. Now the door was three feet away from me. Taking a two handed grip, I aimed. Damn, I was sweating hard. My hands shook with fear. What was on the other side of that door or rather who would come through?

  The underarms of my shirt were wet with sweat. It ran down my face and into my eyes, stinging them and making it harder to see. Then in the blink of an eye, the single bulb hanging from the ceiling went out. Looking at the door, there mustn’t have been any light in the hallway either as there was no glow underneath.

  Still, the pounding continued. Each thump compromised the structure of the wooden door. It creaked and groaned in protest. I didn’t want to die. I was sure I could take at least a few more with me. One conscious thought poured into my head in the last seconds of that door, "How did I get here?"

  Stuck in pitch black darkness, I didn't know what happened to the rest of my group. I’d not seen Officer Jefferson, the Doc or Gretel in the hallways and hoped Sharon stayed in our room. Scratching my head, I had no idea of what to do next. Feeling the need to do something, I scooted over to the right-hand corner of the room. That gave me a clearer angle once the creatures came through that door. It would buy me an extra, what? Five seconds of life? Maybe. Probably not.

  The banging on the door was accomp
anied by a new noise. There were rifle shots now besides the zombies. That is when the first of the bullets tore through the door. Whoever was doing the firing was doing the Lord’s work. There were not wild shots. These were steady, aimed shots that cracked out with precision. More holes ripped through the doorway. The pounding on the door stopped.

  The room filled with flying wood chips and dust as round after round passed through the undead and consequently through my door. Moving to the side now was a genius move. I nearly broke my arm patting myself on the back for that. My face was being spattered by concrete fragments as the bullets passed through the door to hit the back wall. Some metal shards hit my arms and face. I turned my head away from the flying debris and put an arm over my head to prevent me from being cut more.

  Feeling dizzy, I knew it was from loss of blood. I didn't have anything to stop the blood loss with that was clean. I had just laid on the floor out there on top of and around bodies. Some of them infected. I prayed that I wasn’t infected.

  About that time, the door was kicked in. A bright beam of light crashed down upon me. The light was so bright it felt like it came with physical force. I slumped against the wall.

  “Please don’t shoot me.” Was the best I could come up with at that moment. Well, at least it was to the point and conveyed what I wanted.

  A harsh voice responded, “Are you bitten?”

  “No, sir. I’ve been shot. In the calf. Hurts bad.”

  The man must have surveyed me and added, “Drop the pistol, son.”

  I complied. What else was I going to do? I was blind from the light. Dizzy from blood loss and was having a rather strong pity party at the moment. Might as well be disarmed too.

  Once I dropped the Glock, I turned my head into the light and asked, “Who the hell are you?”

  That was when I promptly passed out.

  Chapter 19: The Reconning

  I woke to more darkness. That couldn’t be a good sign. I made sure I had opened my eyes. Yep, it was still dark. My leg had a dull throb in it. Hmmm, if I was dead, I didn’t think I’d have any pain. I tried to move my arms. They moved about pretty freely. I felt about myself. My face had a few band-aids on it. I sat up and felt my calf. It had a nice fresh bandage on it.

  My left elbow was stiff and had a bandage on it. Kind of like the bandages they put on you after you have a blood test at the doctor’s office. Someone took care of me and patched me up. I could only assume that would happen if the good guys won, and the zombies were driven off. The last thing I remember was mister flashlight.

  The door opened. Pale morning light silhouetted the figure who had opened the door. I squinted my eyes to see what was going on. Then a voice I can never forget called out.

  “Son?”

  “Dad? Is that you? How are you here?”

  Maybe I was in heaven. I haven’t heard from Dad since the start of this whole thing. How could he be here? Nothing was making sense.

  The man rushed forward and threw his arms around me.

  Yes! This was my father. I am well pleased.

  “I missed you Dad. Where have you been?”

  “It’s a long, long story. I’m sorry I wasn’t here sooner. Let’s say, I had to take the long way to get here. I basically had to duplicate Stoneman’s raid.”

  I had to sit for a second to think. Wait, that was a Civil War battle. Stoneman was an idiot Union Cavalry commander that lost his command riding all the way around the outskirts of Atlanta. They started outside of Marietta and then were beaten in several skirmishes and battles until his command was wiped out near Athens.

  “You had to go from downtown to Marietta and then around the bottom of Atlanta until you came here?”

  “Yes. It was a long and odd trip. I picked up a few friends along the way.”

  “Is Sharon all right?”

  Dad nodded, “She is mad at you for closing her off in the room. But she is fine. As was everyone else who was above ground.”

  “How did the zombies get into the compound?”

  A new voice was heard. It was Colonel Parker.

  “We think we have figured that out. We sent out a six man patrol before your group came in to join us. They were separated by a huge horde of the creatures. The youngest of the group and one of the Gulf War vets were together. They must have panicked and ran straight back towards the back entrance. Upon reaching the back door and opened it as the horde overwhelmed them. They were so badly eaten that they couldn't turn. Their bodies lay in the opening of the door. We identified them by their wallets and an ID bracelet. The undead poured in. The folks below ground stood little a chance if they opened their doors. We lost most of the folks downstairs. I’m afraid that Tyson Jefferson didn’t make it. Nor did Gretel or my granddaughter. They opened the door to see what the knocking was. The Doc was up attending to Mr. Buckley, so she is fine. She also tended your wounds and gave you a transfusion.”

  He took a hard breath before continuing, “The other four members of the team liked up with your father and his group. They engaged the horde from the rear and cleared the lower levels.”

  He then looked at my father, “Sir, how on earth did you link up with Air Force SAR troopers?”

  I took a minute to puzzle out the acronym. SAR was Search and Rescue. They were one of the Air Force’s elite units. They went places no one else would to rescue downed pilots. I raised an eyebrow and looked at Dad.

  Dad just shrugged. “I fled downtown and made it to the Air Force Base in Marietta. They were launching planes every few seconds off of the runways. They do those big cargo jets there. I got to see them launch using the rocket assistance to get up quickly. Well one jet turned sharply and went down just a mile from where I was, into a suburb. A helicopter took off shortly after that. I followed them on foot. The plane had someone who was infected aboard who attacked the crew. There were scientists on board that needed rescuing. But no one survived the crash. I met the SAR guys and they let me get on their helicopter. When we took off, there were hundreds of the zombies around us. I took over a door gun and impressed someone. When we were in the air, they rerouted us to a facility in Union City. By the time we landed, it was too late. The people we were to extract were dead, and some survivors tried to take the helicopter and shot the pilot. We were on foot from there on out. We moved to Jonesboro then McDonough and finally here in Monticello. It took quite a long time, but we made it.”

  Turning to Colonel Parker, “Sir, you have the strongest and best compound on the eastern seaboard from what we have heard.”

  “Thank you. It sounds like there is more to your adventure. I would like to hear more when we have a chance.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Colonel Parker put his hand on my shoulder, “You did well son. You kept fighting the whole way. I’m proud of you.”

  With that, the Colonel left us. I stared at my Dad. I couldn’t believe he still lived. Then I realized where I was. It had to be the infirmary room.

  “Sir, what happened to the power? The lights went out just before you saved me.”

  The colonel took a moment to respond.

  “Ah, I’m not sure. They found a breaker box and someone had shut off all the power downstairs. They flipped all the breakers but only for the downstairs area. All we know was that there was a bloody handprint on the cover. We have since turned them back on. Someone purposefully shut off the lights downstairs. We don’t know who or why they did it.”

  He went to the wall and flipped a switch. The room, now bathed in light gave me the opportunity to around. Mr. Buckley was there on his side with his back facing us. His leg bore a large plaster cast. I had no idea where they got the plaster from. He was supported by pillows and wasn’t moving. There were no others in the infirmary.

  Just then Doc McCauley came in the room. She looked exhausted. There were dark circles under her eyes. She looked as if she hadn’t slept in days.

  “How is my patient doing?”

  “I feel OK."

 
; She gave me a half smile. “I’m glad you carried that blood donor card in your wallet. I found someone to give you a transfusion. You lost a bunch of blood. I pulled rock and metal fragments out of your arm and face. You will have some dashing scars to show for this.”

  As if on cue, Sharon burst through the door. Her eyes were wide with worry.

  “Are you all right?" She whispered.

  I smiled at her and reached out for her hands.

  “I’m doing great now you are here. Dad, you remember Sharon, right?”

  “Of course I do. I could never forget such a beautiful woman.”

  Dad knew how to lay on the flattery. Sharon blushed.

  Mr Buckley rolled over for the first time. His hands scrubbed at his face while he yawned with mouth wide open. He blinked a few times then looked at us.

  “Oh, good morning.”

  He seemed confused by everyone being present. He looked at me and my bandaged visage.

  “Good heavens, what happened to you?”

  My smart ass mouth ran away with me. I shrugged and said, “I slipped in the shower.”

  Both Sharon and my Dad thumped me in the head at the same time.

  “Er, we had an incident last night. There was fighting, and we pushed back the zombies. Good guys mostly won.”

  “Oh, well that is good. I am glad it turned out all right.”

  He smiled then shut his eyes again.

  Doc McCauley explained, “We gave him a bunch of sedatives last night. He will be out of it for a while. Please don’t thump my patients in the head anymore. Even if he deserves it. I don’t want to treat a concussion.”

  Dad and Sharon just grinned.

  It was Marty’s turn to appear. I had not seen him since the tour we received the day before. Marty did not look well.