Surviving The Zombie Apocalypse (Book 1): Sanctuary
Page 3
Damn, that revelation was depressing me as well, and, logical though it appeared, the number seemed incredible, impossible.
Briana began to pull on her hair. “Where to then?”
I opened my road atlas and set it on the granite countertop. “I’m thinking the western half of the Midwest: Wyoming, Nebraska, Idaho, Montana, maybe the Dakotas. It’s a long trip, really long, but these places all have wide, wide open areas with few towns and few people. They’re colder too, so the temps will be more bearable.”
“Winters are going to be bad. I’ve been skiing in Colorado. It’s cold there. Probably be colder north of that with lots of snow.”
“True.” The turning of the seasons had to be taken into consideration. “Lots of animals to shoot for food, maybe even some chickens or domesticated things we can find. Probably fewer refugees fighting over what’s left too.”
The thought of what living people were capable of, particularly if survival was at stake, was almost as frightening as the zombies outside my door. I definitely wanted to be gone before people started running out of food and had to leave their homes and hidey holes. Most would likely be decent enough folk, but there would be no shortage of those who weren’t.
“I guess so, and you did say we?”
“I’m more than happy to have you along Briana.” I gave her what I hoped was a reassuring smile and not something that hinted at ulterior motives. “You can stay if you want to…”
“I’m not staying alone,” she said, quickly.
“Good enough. I’ll show you what I got packed, and we can switch out some stuff to make room for what you’ll need.” I shrugged apologetically. “We could try to get by your house if you need to retrieve anything.”
I really did not want to be traveling about the town, but it turned out to not be an issue.
“No,” she replied softly, looking down at her feet. Then she turned her green eyes toward me once more. “Whatever you have here will work.”
Briana spent the next few hours going through my belongings. She concurred with the idea of jeans and jackets when outside, for safety, and she cut the bottom off a pair of mine for that purpose. A belt was required to hold them up, her waist being, as I previously described, narrow, but they were workable. The jacket was easier. I had a few old ones lying around from way back that were tight on me but came close to fitting her, close enough that they wouldn’t hinder her movement in any way.
On the downside, from a perspective of space management, she claimed to need a whole lot more in the area of soaps, shampoos, and bathroom items in general. It was likely my fault since I kept stressing for her to take anything she needed. At first, she constantly asked if this was okay or if she could have that, but once she decided I really meant take whatever, she did just that. In the end we packed pretty much everything I had. I can say, with certainty, that the bubble bath should have been left behind. I think we tossed it somewhere in Oklahoma.
A second problem, far more pressing, was that Briana did not know how to use a gun, and she was born and bred in Texas. Shame on her and her family for that one. I gave her my .38 revolver to carry. It was the easiest to explain and is all but impossible to jam. You simply fill the cylinder, close it, and pull the trigger. There wasn’t even a safety. I would’ve preferred giving her the .45 – Briana looked strong enough to fire it despite the nasty kick – or maybe my slightly smaller .40 caliber automatic, which I personally prefer to the Glock. However, these required a bit more in the lesson category and some live fire practice, which we couldn’t do just yet.
* * *
Lunch was another round of cold steak and lunchmeat, along with some canned veggies. Briana also offered to make the sandwiches I’d mentioned earlier, for the next day when we were on the road. I readily agreed. It gave her something to do, aside from stealing all my bathroom fare, and having a task, however simple, seemed to be calming. Her eyes still darted about though. It was obvious Briana was scared.
I was frightened as well, had been from the very start. I know what I’ve written thus far doesn’t really show it, but that’s more the effect of my pride than actual confidence on my part. Now, I wasn’t panicked or terrified, not even close. I had my plan – I’m big into planning and more than a little dependent on such – and ample resources to carry it out. I had someone to talk to who could also share in the work. Granted, Briana was a teenager, meaning her grasp of reality was nowhere as good as she likely thought. Still, the underlying fear was always there.
One of the best things about Briana was that she was treating me like a person and not a substitute parent or, far, far worse, throwing herself at me, hoping that if I saw her as a possession I would be more inclined to keep her safe. I don’t think I could have dealt with either scenario. Like I said, Briana is, without doubt, a beautiful woman, with a lovely smile and a most wonderful figure, but I’ve never had any use or respect for those who depend solely on their looks to get through life. I think I would have left her behind if that had been the case. Saying so might seem questionable, seeing how the opposite sex was rapidly becoming a commodity, but the grief and stress would have been brutal.
She finished the sandwiches, wrapping them in wax paper and sticking them back in the cooler with its ever diminishing supply of ice – that would be gone by nightfall – and we shifted the conversation to other, important topics.
“Is your Jeep a standard?”
“No, automatic. Can’t drive standards. Tried to learn a few times but never was able to get anywhere. I gave up a long time ago.”
She smiled. Briana’s teeth are straight and white. I’d worn braces for years, and when they came off I had a perfect set of choppers myself. Then, over time, a few teeth shifted slightly. It was quite frustrating. However, I’ve never had a single cavity. My enamel was as good as it got. It’s a tradeoff I’m quite happy with, ideal now that the dentists were likely all gone.
A second driver was going to be very nice, and she was close enough to my height that shifting the seat might not be necessary. With the Jeep fully loaded, I wasn’t sure if I could even move it back and forth.
An explosion sounded somewhere outside, and we both hurried to the front. Briana had a hand on her gun but hadn’t drawn it from the holster. Good on both counts. I peeked out the windows while she shifted about nervously.
“Anything?”
I shook my head. “I see a zombie, just one. It’s looking over to the north, I think.”
“The zombie or the explosion was north?”
“Both.”
Leaving the front, I hurried upstairs to one of the spare bedrooms. It had a window facing that direction.
“Damn.”
“What is it?” She drew up next to me and pulled the curtain back so she could see as well.
“That’s by what, TWU?”
Texas Women’s University, in the center of town and a good ten miles or so from my house, was one of the schools in Denton, the other being the University of North Texas. I couldn’t see any of the buildings from where I lived, but the rising smoke seemed to be in that general area.
“What do you think did that?”
“I don’t know. That was loud, and there’s a lot of smoke. Gas tanks maybe, or propane that exploded? They might have those there. Could’ve been a fire that heated them up.”
Briana frowned. “That’s a lot of guessing.”
“Don’t have anything else. We’re too far for me to make out any details.”
“Think it might have been the Army?”
“I don’t think so. I can’t see a reason to hit the area, and even if they were trying to get rid of zombies en masse, artillery doesn’t look like that. I remember watching them blast it off at Fort A.P. Hill when I was in Boy Scouts at the National Jamboree there. They loved firing it at the crack of dawn, waking everyone up. But, they might have used something else, if it was them.”
Flames were beginning to appear. The center of town was on fire.
“I think we’re good,” I replied, after my own panic subsided enough to make some rational observations, something that took longer than I like to admit. “Look at the smoke. It’s moving away from us. The wind’s out of the south. I think it’ll burn the other way, mostly.” I checked my watch. It was only 2:30 PM. “We could leave now, but I rather wait until sunup. That’ll give us more driving time to get out of the Metroplex. I don’t want to get stuck in the area, outside, after the sun goes down.”
“Makes sense, but I think we need to keep an eye on that.”
I nodded. Burning to death was way down on my list of things to do.
* * *
We spent most of the afternoon watching the distant fire with a few breaks when we drifted into the backyard for some fresh air. The house was hot and stuffy and becoming more and more unbearable. Fortunately, by the time the sun was going down, the fire had clearly moved further away. The glimmer of flames was still visible, as was the thick mat of black smoke, but both were slowly diminishing. The damage had to be tremendous, and I felt a great deal of sympathy for any survivors caught in its path. Hopefully they would notice in time to get away.
Neither of us slept much that night, and we shared the bed again. Briana didn’t say anything, just plopping down on one side when it was time to turn in, but she clearly did not want to be alone. I refrained from making any comments, my feelings being in complete alignment. My rest was fitful however. I kept getting up to check on the conflagration north of us. Briana did the same, possibly more often than me.
* * *
We left Denton on the morning of the fourth day, shortly after sunrise. The fire turned out to be less a concern than we’d feared. It had moved away, and with the way the strong winds were blowing, we couldn’t even smell the smoke. The billowing plumes of black soot were still evident in the distance, but it was far from the route we’d be taking.
I believe I’d dealt with the situation up to that point fairly well. I started off reasonably secure. I had not lost anyone close to me. I had not been in any personal danger. I did see the three nimrods get themselves killed, which served to cement the reality of the situation and ensure I remained cautious. And I met Briana. She had experienced something dreadful when the zombies arose, something to do with her family. I would have to remember that. It was important to keep in mind that many of those we’d encounter in the days to come would be closer to her in what they’d gone through than me.
Understand, I never was an emotional man. I was far from heartless and in no way a sociopath who cared only for himself, but while I tried to be diplomatic most of the time, I did have the unnerving tendency to eventually say, or let on, exactly what I thought. And, aside from where children were concerned, I have very little patience. The point of all this was that I knew I had to be careful about how I behaved around others. The danger of giving grievous insult by downplaying their personal tragedies or not understanding their situations was very real. With everyone’s survival at stake, it would be best to avoid starting conflicts out of stupidity or carelessness.
So, after getting cleaned up and taking a lukewarm bath in the tub that was still full – I let Briana go first – and eating our fill of the food in the cooler, we finished loading our belongings. The sandwiches Briana made the day before seemed to be keeping, and we decided to eat them on the road before they went bad.
I gave the house one final walk through, starting at the top and going from room to room. I checked drawers, closets, even looked under the beds, but I only added a few things to what I was taking. There was an old oil painting, small and framed, that I was able to wrap in a towel and slip in the back – it had been a gift from my parents when I went off to college. That was it for personal items. I hated leaving so much behind, but I couldn’t take it all, or very much for that matter. Practical survival gear took precedence, although I think I would have packed the photo albums no matter how difficult that made traveling.
Briana added to the pile as well. You know, I think she enjoyed going through my stuff, but I could accept her curiosity. It was better than her on and off moping. Briana talked readily enough, but she often fell silent and seemed to be thinking about… something dark.
The items Briana took included additional clothing for herself, mostly shirts and jogging pants, the type with elastic around the ankles. She added quite a few kitchen knives and some extra cooking gear as well. These were nice to have but not essential, and we could dump them if we needed the space. She also appropriated a stuffed rabbit pillow thingee. Now, this is kind of hard to explain. It was a gag gift from a co-worker a year or so ago, and I had tossed it in the guest room without worrying about it since. It was basically a plush rabbit twisted in a circle with a gap between the head and the tail. You put it around your neck and then sit back against a chair. It supposedly kept a person comfortable while in a car or on a plane. I never cared for it, rabbit design notwithstanding, but Briana said she’d used them before and liked the things. She also declared it to be cute.
When all was packed and done and ready, we prepared to drive off. That was when we encountered our first snag. Remember, there was no power. My Jeep Wrangler was in the garage, and the garage doors required electricity to operate. The things were composed of flimsy aluminum paneling, and I was positive I could push right through. Still, that seemed like a really bad idea. Any damage to the vehicle would leave us screwed. In the end, I used bolt cutters to snip the pieces of metal locking the garage door in place so it simply sat on its guide rails, held down by gravity.
Briana and I then went into the yard and around to the side farthest from the garage. A few yells had the zombies in the immediate area, eight of them, two of which were children, shambling toward us. We waited until they were close to the fence and then went back to the house, locked the back door, went into the garage, locked the door between it and the house, and with Briana holding the .38 to cover me, I pulled the garage door up. It promptly, and unexpectedly, slid back down, slamming into the concrete. That was loud.
“The broom!” she cried, pointing.
I grabbed the push broom, jerked the garage door up a second time, and used the handle to jam it in place. We leapt into the Jeep, locked the doors – that was conscious, not second nature – and I started the engine. Backing up and swinging around was no problem, but zombies were approaching, crossing the driveway. I had to swerve into the grass to avoid hitting them. My Jeep is customized and has big tubular steel bumpers on the sides and back, with extra high ones in the front that protect the engine. I have steel skid plates on the bottom to prevent damage if going over rocks. It’s trail rated for 4X4 off road use and extremely durable. Even so, I wasn’t about to take the chance that I’d end up like the three men in the pickup. Too much was at stake.
“Sure you don’t want to swing by your house for anything?” I asked, turning down a side street, moving slowly and keeping an eye out. “We likely won’t ever be this way again.”
Briana shook her head. “I… No, I don’t want to go back there.”
She was quiet for a moment. Briana had looked at my box of photos and mementos, and I’m sure she wanted to retrieve such things of her own. But whatever horror had happened at her house was overriding this desire.
“Cabela’s then?”
“Sounds good, I guess. Do you think anyone will be there?”
“Most definitely,” I replied. “With all the camping and shooting gear they carry, it had to have been an obvious target for survivors living nearby.”
The retailer in question was located on I-35W, south of Denton on the way to Fort Worth, a bit past the race track and Alliance Airport. Because it was almost certainly occupied I’d suggested we do a drive by. Reaching the interstate was simple enough. It was just a short ride down a couple of residential streets, a few miles through a rural area with only a handful of houses, most on ten acre lots or larger, and that wa
s it. We could avoid built up, populated areas the entire way.
“It’s so quiet,” observed Briana.
She had the rabbit pillow around her neck. The pink thing looked stupid, but maybe it was helping with the bumps. At the best of times my Jeep gave a rough ride. Loaded down with my having to go off road every few minutes to get around abandoned or wrecked cars wasn’t helping. There were a lot of those, though not compared to cheesy apocalypse movies. You know the type with the endless line of vehicles as far as the eye could see, the remnants of those who tried to flee but failed.
“Very quiet,” I agreed. “Have you seen any living people?”
She continued to stare out the window. “No one. Hiding in the houses, I think, like you were. Haven’t even seen many zombies.”
“If you do see anybody come outside or wave to us, let me know. We can stop, maybe, if they look safe.”
Briana nestled back in her seat and closed her eyes. “Probably going to be a lot of crazies, going insane from seeing it all.” She shivered.
“I doubt if those’ll last long. I can’t see anyone who’s really irrational staying alive. The ones I’m most worried about are the sort who were rotten to begin with and don’t have to worry about police or repercussions anymore.”
That statement would come back to haunt us in the months ahead.
* * *
The remainder of the drive was silent. We made our way down the interstate and after about two hours reached Cabela’s. Crossing the overpass, I stopped so we could take a good look.