“More on the other side again.”
Wiping the sweat from my forehead, I grabbed an extra clip – we had made sure all were kept filled – and moved to deal with this new batch.
“Here come Simon and Cherie,” commented Briana. Her tone grew harsh. “Bitch is talking to him again.”
“I wouldn’t think they’d walk back in silence.”
“Yeah, but I know what she’s probably saying.”
Whatever it was, the conversation ended before they reached the cars. Cherie dropped several bags into the metal storage boxes in her pickup and put more in the passenger seat. Simon tossed what he was carrying there as well. There was more room than in his SUV, and it could be sorted later.
“Get the food inside too,” I called.
“Sure thing,” replied Simon.
They put the small stuff in the cab and the big gallon size cans of beans, tomato sauce, and other staples from the diner in the back with the spare tires. It was a good haul.
“Here comes Mary and the others,” announced Briana. “Think they were a bit too eager to shop?”
I shook my head. The three were completely laden down with bags, more than they could reasonably carry.
“What did you get? Everything?”
“We didn’t have time to try anything on,” protested Lizzy, as she shoved it all in the back of the Grand Cherokee, “so we grabbed whatever looked like it might fit, and we got stuff for Cherie and Briana too. Some things for Michael, Simon, and you as well.”
“What about Julie?” I asked, noticing how she was the only one left off the list.
Lizzy grunted. “Lois grabbed stuff that might fit her. Waste of time helping that spiteful troll.”
Simon was already back with Julie and Michael, and Cherie had started her truck so there was no one else to hear.
Lizzy looked at the bodies around us. “Kill enough of them?”
“Just what I had to, so you’d have enough time to finish your shopping spree.”
“Wait until I show you the tiger print bikini bottom I found.”
“I don’t really need to see you in that sort of thing Lizzy. Lois might be angry with me.” I was almost back to my own Jeep.
“This is for you Jacob.”
Lizzy began to laugh. Weird sense of humor on that one. I shook my head, somewhat amused nonetheless.
Interlude – Simon’s Story
With Cherie failing to provide more than the tiniest inkling of her past, and deftly avoiding the topic with a level of skill that would impress a State Department diplomat, I’m now going to relate Simon’s story. This is his tale, not that of his family. Julie outright refused to speak with me, nor would she consent to Michael participating.
Simon Branson and his family were residents of Omaha, Iowa. As an assistant manager working the nightshift at a distribution center servicing several grocery store chains, Simon was awake at the time of the initial change, the only person I’d met up to that point with direct, personal experience whom I could question.
Without warning, several co-workers collapsed in their chairs or on the floor, shaking violently. Some cried out in pain, others just writhed in silent agony. One of these unfortunates was driving a forklift at the time, and the machine veered sharply to the side, struck a wall, and spilled several pallets of laundry detergent. No one was crushed, but the event added to the initial confusion and delayed the survivors’ response. Several minutes passed before Simon and the others even realized the afflicted had died. Then one of the employees said it could be a toxin of some sort, possibly a terrorist attack. He ran from the building further contributing to the chaos.
Simon, unable to do much else, hurried to the office and dialed 911. Therefore, he missed the imminent reanimation and subsequent attacks by his former friends and colleagues. With the majority of the employees still in the warehouse, there was no shortage of ready targets, and when the zombies began to stir, several bent down thinking, reasonably at the time, that they had been terribly wrong in believing these people dead. The results were horrific. Everyone save Simon and Lewis were either bitten or fled.
The pair quickly moved the injured inside the office while the zombies shambled about aimlessly, sated after feeding. They used strips of cloth, torn from their shirts, to bind the wounds. No one bled out, but several were seriously injured and required immediate, professional medical attention.
With Lewis keeping a watch on the zombies in the warehouse, Simon again attempted to reach an emergency operator. Unsuccessful, he tried directory assistance, but that didn’t work either. Growing impatient, Lewis insisted they drive the injured to the hospital themselves. Simon reluctantly agreed – he was worried a few might die if moved without the assistance of an ambulance or paramedics – but by then the zombies had grown hungry once more.
The monsters made straight for the office. Lewis slammed the door shut and locked it, but the zombies pressed forward, hammering their fists against the wood. The hinges suddenly broke free, and the door fell inward landing on two of the men. They screamed in pain and terror as the dead shambled inside, their weight pressing down, pinning them to the floor, but this put the pair out of easy reach, saving them from what followed. John Tucker was less fortunate. Being the nearest person, the zombies grabbed him. Simon and Lewis did their best to stop it, but he was dragged from the room.
Once again satisfied following their abbreviated feeding, the zombies drifted away, ignoring everything and everyone. Lewis rushed to Tucker and managed to get a pair of tourniquets tied off before he bled to death, but the man still lost consciousness. In the meantime, Simon pushed the fallen door to the side. One of those pinned beneath had a shattered leg.
“We have to get them to the hospital,” insisted Lewis. “We can’t go through that again.”
“I know. I’d…” Simon shook his head. There was no reason to think there wouldn’t be a third time. “How about one of the delivery trucks?”
“Should be enough room. Let’s move now, before they decide to come back.” He jerked his head in the direction of the zombies. “What’s wrong with them?”
Not waiting for a response, probably not expecting one, Lewis slung Tucker over one shoulder and, completely disregarding the blood that dripped down his back, carried the man to the parking lot. Simon helped the others outside as best he could before opening one of the trucks. Both men gently got the injured into the back, and once this was done Simon handed Lewis the keys.
“I’m going to check on my family.”
“We have to get them to the emergency room,” protested Lewis, angrily. He couldn’t believe this. “They might die. Tucker probably will.”
Simon’s head dropped. “I’ve two kids at home.” It was a feeble excuse, given the circumstances as he understood them at the time, yet Simon was not going to allow anything to prevent him from going to his wife and children.
“They’re probably… Carl! Where are you going?”
The small man ignored Lewis’s question. Holding an injured arm close to his chest, he hopped out of the delivery truck and headed for his own car on the opposite side of the building.
“We need to go.”
Simon wasn’t sure who said that. He took the opportunity it presented to turn and walk away.
“Damn it! You can’t just leave!”
He steadfastly refused to look back and soon heard Lewis drive off.
Simon had no idea what befell any of them, but looking back it’s likely John Tucker died and reanimated while in the rear of the truck. Additionally, the vehicle was similar to the standard U-Haul. There was no way to open the rear loading door from the inside. The men it was carrying would have been trapped with the zombie, and there’s a good chance at least one more would have perished before they reached the hospital.
* * *
Heading home in his wife’s SUV – Simon’s own car was in the shop getting the transmission fixed – he spotted a few zombies on the street. There weren’t
many, only a handful, but he was certain they were just like the men in the warehouse. They had the same unsteady, shambling gait, the same weird behavior. Some were clearly the homeless, but others were young people dressed as if they’d been out at bars or clubs. Simon watched as a woman in a very short, extremely tight fitting black dress bent down and bit the face of a drunk sleeping on a park bench. He sped up.
Reaching his house a few minutes later, Simon parked in the driveway and hurried inside to wake Julie and the children. Simon wouldn’t share the words that were exchanged, but he provided a summary of what they did. First was to turn on the news to find out what was happening. The earliest reports were very unclear, but the fact that a quarter of the world’s population had collapsed and gotten up a few minutes later was never in doubt. Nor was there any disputing that those who rose attacked the uninfected and were unresponsive, even to the pleas of their loved ones.
Convinced that all the worst things in Hell would break loose as people began waking up, Simon got everyone dressed and into the SUV. They grabbed a few personal items and some toys, but that was it. Focusing on speed, the family left behind many of the things they’d need in the coming days. Still, they were more than thirty miles south of Omaha when the sun first began to show itself.
* * *
The radio reports steadily added to their understanding of what was happening, verifying that Simon’s instincts had been correct. They listened as a journalist reporting from a hospital talked about how the numbers of injured arriving kept increasing. Then they heard the frantic cries as patients began to die and reanimate.
By lunch time several stations were off the air. Those remaining told of widespread power outages as facilities were abandoned or failed due to other reasons. Some went silent after the announcer said he was going home and walked away with no one to take his place.
The highways had grown rapidly worse, becoming a lesson in insanity. Thousands were fleeing the city. Others were trying enter. People began to change their minds and turn around, sometimes going the wrong way only to cause a head on collision. And zombies were walking about adding to the panic. A few were deliberately run down, and ordinary human beings who’d abandoned their cars were struck as well, not always by accident.
Needing to think, Simon pulled into a rest stop where his family watched in horror as a group of people began to smash open the vending machines, stealing candy bars and soft drinks. A scuffle broke out, and a man was knocked to the ground and then stomped on, repeatedly. His rib cage was crushed and his skull cracked open. He was left there, a bloody mess, while the looting went on around him.
Simon drove past the melee and onto the access road, taking the first back road he saw, not knowing where it led. Then he took another and a third. Soon he was completely lost, but there were almost no other cars about. A few passed by moving quickly, but none stopped. It seemed they were safe for the moment.
“Where are we?” demanded Julie.
“I don’t know.”
“I’m scared,” sobbed Juliette. She’d been crying almost continuously.
“You don’t need to be scared,” said Michael reassuringly, though he sounded terrified himself.
It was almost more than Simon could bear, and he was nearly out of gas. They needed to find something, anything.
“A mailbox,” said Julie, “up there.”
Simon saw it – it was partially hidden by some vines – and uttered a silent prayer of thanks as he pulled into the driveway. It was long and winding, and they went nearly a quarter mile before rounding a copse of trees and finding a farm house with some fields of corn behind it. As they pulled up in front, an older man stepped onto the porch with a shotgun in his hands.
“Don’t shoot!” cried Simon. He opened the car door and stood up. “I have my family with me.”
The man seemed to relax as he looked them over. “You all are normal?”
“Yes!” shouted Simon. “All of us.”
“Then come on inside.”
So grateful that he was nearly blubbering, Simon guided Julie and the children into the two story house. A woman greeted them, took a good look of her own, and directed them to the kitchen. She pointed out the bathroom on the way, and Michael darted inside.
“We’ve been on the road since before dawn,” explained Julie, as Juliette grabbed a cookie from a jar on the counter without asking. “We haven’t eaten anything.” She looked at her daughter. “Juliette, what do we say before taking something?”
“It’s all right,” countered the woman. “I’m Gloria. The big lout is my husband Kyle. And you folk do look hungry. I’ll have something right up for you.”
“You still have power,” observed Simon. “On the radio they said it was going out everywhere.”
She nodded. “We likely won’t lose it either. We have a generator and a wind turbine and some big batteries that are charged up. A few years ago we lost power for over a month when the lines went down. That hurt us bad, right at harvest time, so we invested in making sure there were no repeats. We actually pump more into the grid that we use.” She laughed. “Electric company pays us each month. Can’t run everything all at once, but otherwise we should be okay.”
“You saw the reports?” asked Simon.
“Sure did,” replied Kyle. He’d come back inside after checking the area around the house. “Nasty business.”
“I was at work when it started,” said Simon, his eyes glazing over. “Lost some workers at the center.”
“That’s unfortunate.” Kyle gave him an understanding nod. “You’re safe enough now. We’re in the middle of nowhere, for the most part. There aren’t even any other houses within six miles of us. Some fields that people plant on are closer, but no residences. Not many roads either.”
“Can we try your television?” asked Julie.
Gloria put a plate of cheese, crackers, and cookies in front of the kids who dug in while she began preparing a proper meal on the stove.
Kyle shrugged. “We don’t have cable. That went out right away. We can get a few local stations, but not many are still talking.” He flipped the television set in the living room on and handed her the remote. “You won’t get anything past Channel 11.”
Julie, with Simon watching, scanned through them. There were only two still broadcasting at that point, and they didn’t say anything new. It was turned off during dinner, and when they tried again afterwards, both were gone.
* * *
Simon and his family spent the next few days with the Robersons, and he unequivocally believed it was their generosity in allowing them to remain that saved his family’s life. With the chaos and violence that spiraled out of the city, they likely would have been bitten by zombies or robbed and killed by desperate breathers – I rather like calling the living breathers, but enough of my idiosyncrasies for now. They had a place to stay, good food, and a chance to figure things out.
The farm was well off the beaten path, not so much as the eagle flies, but the way the roads were laid out made it very difficult to get to, even harder to find. There were no other refugees, no travelers. Another farmer did ride up one afternoon on horseback to make sure the Robersons were okay, but he didn’t stay long.
Michael and Juliette were enjoying themselves too, not yet understanding all that was happening. It was obviously too dangerous to allow them to run about, but there was a fenced in yard that permitted some safe, and supervised, play time. Julie was the most anxious. She did not like being so close to Omaha and was certain the zombies would come marching across the fields any day. As a result of her worrying, Kyle agreed to take Simon on a quick go and see drive.
Using Kyle Roberson’s truck, they took side roads and then a dirt track that opened up near the highway. It was rough going and required four wheel drive, but it gave them an excellent view without exposing themselves unnecessarily.
“Only three days ago when we went by,” said Simon.
Kyle continued to stare at the wr
eckage. There were cars and trucks everywhere. Some were burned out. Others had swerved off the interstate and crashed. More had collided and were totaled. Many appeared to have run out of gas and been left behind. There were zombies too, a lot of them, shambling across the asphalt. For the most part, they stayed on the road as they moved without clear direction, never stopping, never slowing. There was no sign of the living.
“I never thought it’d be this bad,” mused Kyle. “In the cities, yes, after they showed some films of what was happening, but not out here. What happened to all of them? Not enough of those zombie things to account for this many cars.”
“It was totally out of control,” said Simon. He had told his hosts about the incident at the rest stop. “It was mob mentality, for many at least, enough I guess.”
“What do you want to bet they just ran right down the road once they couldn’t drive any longer? People probably stayed right there in open where the things could get em. Damn pity, all of it.”
* * *
“We have to leave,” pressed Julie. “It’s not safe.”
“Not a single zombie has come to the farm,” countered Simon.
It was late, and everyone else was asleep, but after hearing what her husband and Kyle had discovered, Julie was more adamant than ever about departing.
“You said there were thousands on the roads. They’re going to find us. Hundreds of thousands in the city too. We’re only forty miles away. A person can walk that in a couple of days. How long for one of those wicked things?”
Simon had no response, nor did he know enough to say if Julie was correct or not.
“Where do you want to go?” he asked sullenly, after a drawn out pause.
“Somewhere safe. The police, no, the military is going to have safe places set up all over. We just have to find one. Then we stay there until they clean it all up.”
“I don’t know Julie. We didn’t hear about anyplace like that before we lost the radio and television, and it did hit the entire planet. I don’t think the soldiers who survived are going to be able to get rid of all the zombies either, not for years at least. There are just so many of them.”
Surviving The Zombie Apocalypse (Book 1): Sanctuary Page 16
