We turned and jogged back to the vehicles. With the headlights glaring out at the darkness, finding them was no problem.
“How long have we been doing this?” gasped Lizzy. She was breathing hard.
“We got here about twenty minutes ago,” said Dean, glancing at his digital watch. It had a nifty blue light built into it.
“That’s it?” She didn’t sound like she believed him.
I watched as Cherie shot a zombie that was approaching her side of the rough circle. She seemed calm and collected.
“Here you go,” said Briana. She handed me one of the extra 9mm pistols and several clips. I dropped my other guns in the bag, and she tossed it back into the Jeep. “Want the shotgun?”
“I… No, not yet at least.”
There were only about fifteen people between the Jeeps and pickup, not very many at all. This sucked.
“Lizzy, get reloaded and help Cherie. Dean, go help Alec. Briana and I have this spot. Just stay put and drop them as they close. We’re not moving until the sun comes up, not unless we absolutely have to.”
* * *
It was a miserable, horrible time, but the sun did rise an hour later, allowing us to see the results of the attack and our attempts to help. There were bodies scattered everywhere. Of the zombies, there were roughly two hundred, most lying between us and the lake camp or around our vehicles. There were other corpses though, the bodies of campers who’d been hit by friendly fire. There was no way to know, but I really hoped I hadn’t been responsible for any of their deaths.
Pastor Thomas Wills was among the fallen. We found him near the tents, several bites on his body, and a bullet hole in his forehead. I don’t know who shot him, nor did I ask.
In addition to those who reached us, others had taken my ad hoc advice, passed on through Simon, and shimmied up some trees. Michael and his father had been among them. They’d gotten into the branches of a pine and moved as high as they could. There were other children as well. Some said their parents pushed them up, having seen Simon do this with Michael. A few even managed to follow, but most were dragged down by the walkers.
Julie also survived the night by hiding in their SUV, with the doors locked, ducked down in the back seat out of view. She would have made it through the chaos when so many, far better people, had perished.
“This is your fault!” she shrieked, pointing a finger at me.
“Jacob’s the one who came to save you!” Briana shouted back. “Without him you’d all be dead. We were the ones who killed the zombies. You just hid and didn’t do anything.”
“He led them here, with his running all around the place,” continued Julie, in hysterics.
I wasn’t about to admit to it publicly, no matter what, but there was some validity to that accusation. We had just been in Chadron, and while we were extremely careful to circle around the town and come back in a manner to avoid such a thing, it was possible some of the zombies may have followed, or at least begun traveling in that general direction.
“They could have come from anywhere,” I said. “This camp is not that far off the highway, just down a short side road. It was always easy to reach.”
“They probably were just passing by,” said Lizzy, “and heard your constant whining.”
Julie lunged at Lizzy who slammed a meaty fist into the taller woman’s jaw. She fell back to land in the dirt. Michael began to cry, and Simon moved to help her.
“Honey, you need to calm down. This isn’t Jacob’s fault, or anyone’s. These things are monsters. You know that.”
She began to scream and yank at her hair as she pulled away from her husband. Julie even tore some strands out by the roots.
“His fault! His! His! His!”
Yep, she was quite insane. This was so not good.
Then Julie drew a gun from her waistband and leveled it at me. I never noticed it. I never even considered she might be armed. Before she could fire though, Simon stepped between us, trying desperately to calm his wife. That was good for me, not so much for him. She pulled the trigger, and the bullet caught him in the shoulder.
“Simon,” she gasped, briefly lucid. Then the madness took control, and Julie was on her feet, running for the trees.
After I watched her vanish, hoping she never came back, I turned to see Cherie comforting Michael while Briana and Dean were trying to staunch the bleeding.
“Could this get any worse?” demanded Lizzy.
I had no idea and said nothing.
We spent the remainder of the day trying to help the survivors. Quite a few had been bitten. Some of these ran off as well, not wanting to force their friends to shoot them after they died from the infection. Others screamed and cried, fully aware that there was nothing anyone could do. The bodies littering the area were largely left where they fell.
* * *
There had been many revelations about zombies over the past month, the big one being, obviously, that they were real. A new one was soon revealed. It was something that none of us expected. All our prior experience led us to believe it wouldn’t happen, and as such we were very much unprepared. You see, all the dead were rising up as zombies, not just the bitten. Only, the amount of time between death and reanimation differed. Those infected by a zombie’s bite returned seven minutes following death. For all others, it was roughly twenty six hours.
“What a mess,” muttered Lizzy.
I nodded. The previous day had been long and hard. We spent most of it checking and rechecking the area for zombies and keeping an eye out for Julie in case she came back. We tended to the injured. For the bitten there was nothing we could do. As to those with sprains, bruises, and cuts, they were patched up. One man had a broken arm which we were forced to set and bind with no knowledge of what we were doing. Three of us had to hold him down. Still, I thought it would heal okay, and Cherie pumped him full of antibiotics to prevent an infection.
Lizzy, Briana, and I remained at the lake camp. All the children and the injured were at the newer settlement in the meadow with those bitten under constant watch. They’d be dealt with after they turned. Dreadful business. But collecting the bodies wasn’t much better. They were already beginning to rot. At least it wasn’t as hot as it had been.
By the way, zombies do resume normal decomposition after they’re put down, and animals, mostly flies in this case, will approach once they are dead dead.
Along with a dozen others, all volunteers, we were going to stack the corpses in a mass grave – it had been prepared the day before using a natural depression in the ground – cover them up, and finish moving everything to the meadow. And it would be everything, every car, every tent, even the picnic tables. There had been no arguments. Following the attack, no one wanted to remain so close to the highway.
“I don’t like that they showed up all at once the other night,” commented Lizzy. “Simon said that’s what happened, a big group instead of trickling in slowly.”
“It was before dawn,” I pointed out. “Most were asleep, and there’d been a lot of confusion. We can’t tell for certain what happened. Oh, I agree that they had come as a group – obvious, that – but they might have shown up in several waves or with a group first and then more trickling in.”
“That’s getting pissy with facts,” argued Lizzy. “Having a solid group this far from a town is just plain bad.”
“We’re going to need to keep an eye out for large groups from now on,” added Briana. “We can’t assume the zombies, if they appear, will be spread out anymore.”
“You’re right,” I agreed, “both of you.”
“We need to come up with a better shooting system too,” continued Lizzy. “When we’re clearing them out we need primary shooters, secondary ones for backup, and somebody who just reloads clips for us or maybe carries a sack of extras.”
“Makes sense. It’ll work during daytime anyway. In the dark like last night, I don’t know.”
“We need flood lights for that.” Lizzy shook he
r head. “I hated not seeing what I was shooting. After we build our wall, we should mount them up high.”
Back on the original topic. Following this enlightening discussion, we began to load the bodies on a trailer hitched to a pickup, which would then cart them to the mass grave. It was during this process that the first of those who died without being infected came back.
“Goddamn!” shouted Georgy Boy, a nickname I hoped.
I turned to see him backpedaling. He made it about seven feet before he tripped and fell. The zombie, one of those killed by friendly fire, rose to its feet and shambled forward, arms outstretched. Lizzy was closest, and she shot him in the head.
“Where did that one come from?” she demanded, glaring down at Georgy Boy. “Well? Say something before I start kicking you.”
“It just woke up,” he stammered.
“That was Louis,” someone said. “He was shot by accident the other night.”
I looked down at the zombie. There were no visible bite marks. However, the gunshot wound to the chest was pretty obvious.
“There were what, five dead who didn’t have bites?” asked Briana. “Did they come back too?”
“Where are they?” We had only just begun stacking them on the trailer. Most were lying on the ground all about us. “Anyone remember?”
“There’s one,” said a woman. I forget her name. I tend to be lousy with names, but since she left the next day of her own accord, I suppose it doesn’t much matter.
Another body had risen. It noticed us almost immediately and started moving forward.
“Got one on the trailer,” remarked Lizzy. “Right there, stuck under the other bodies. I don’t think it can get out.”
“They shouldn’t be doing this,” cried Georgy Boy. “They shouldn’t be coming back!”
“Well, they are,” snapped Lizzy, “so get a grip.”
“Lizzy,” I said, “put him out of his misery.”
Georgy Boy began to hyperventilate.
“Not you.” I was losing patience. “The zombie on the trailer. I’ll get the other one.”
“Come on Georgy,” said the woman with the name I couldn’t remember. She helped him to his feet. “You need to calm down.”
She led him to one of the picnic tables. As if we didn’t have enough problems.
“Where are the other two?” asked Briana.
I shot my zombie and looked around. Nothing was moving. No, wait. There was one about thirty yards away. I dealt with him as well.
It took twenty minutes to find the final zombie. It was a woman who’d been shot in the leg, shattering the left femur. As a result, the thing couldn’t walk, but it did crawl, slowly, toward our voices, undeterred by its handicap.
* * *
“How are things there Cherie?” I asked, through the radio.
“Simon is going to be okay,” she replied, “but Michael’s a wreck. Most of the other children are as well. A good two thirds of them are orphans now. I don’t think any have both parents left.”
“God,” I muttered. “Try to keep them busy or something. Distract them if you can. I don’t know. What about the other injured?”
“Those bitten are… You know how that goes. No changes on the others.”
“Okay. By the way Cherie, those who die, even if not bitten, come back.”
Her voice rose an octave. “What do you mean they come back? We’ve seen other people die or kill themselves.”
“I know, but the five who died here, but were never bitten, they came back. It wasn’t fast like normal. As best I can tell, it took a solid twenty six hours. I can’t say for certain, but it was a tad more than a full day. They died before sunup and came back shortly after dawn the day after.”
“So all those who died and were buried are now zombies stuck under several feet of dirt. Great. How long do you think it’ll take them to get free?”
“I don’t know,” I admitted. “Since they don’t rot away and don’t tire, I expect they’ll get out eventually, might take years or more. Nothing we can do about it. But all the dead get the brain destroyed before burial from now on.”
“Mary is jumping up and down wanting to know when you are coming back.”
“About an hour, maybe two,” I replied. “We have the bodies covered up. We’re just finishing loading the gear into the last of the cars and trucks.”
“Sounds good. Fine. Fine. You can have the radio Mary.”
“What’s up Jacob?” asked the impossibly energetic thirteen year old.
“Exactly what you heard me tell Cherie.”
“Well, things here are all a mess. People are crying and crying and complaining. I should have stayed with you.”
“Picking up dead bodies for hours on end is not enjoyable, and they tend to be heavy.”
I heard Cherie say something in the background, but I couldn’t make out the words.
“I am too strong enough,” protested Mary, addressing the other woman.
“Listen up Mary. We’ll get back soon. Tell Lois and the others to prepare a big dinner for tonight. That might help.”
She said okay, and I cut the connection. It had been backbreaking work. I was exhausted and needed some downtime to recuperate. At least we’d be able to sprawl out in a tent tonight, protected by a flimsy six foot high wood fence.
* * *
“Huh,” commented Lizzy. “I did not expect this.”
The two of us had undertaken a final hike around the small lake while Briana and the others waited at the actual camp site. There hadn’t been much to see at first, not until we stepped around a thicket of brambles and discovered Julie’s corpse. Her blank eyes were staring at the sky, the gray film that afflicted the shambling dead absent. There was a bullet hole in her forehead and another in her chest, right where her heart would have been had she not been an evil, crazy bitch lacking one to begin with. The shot appeared to have been from close to point blank range as well. We could see the powder burns on her blouse, that and a whole lot of ants that were crawling over her, taking away little pieces, bit by bit.
“Any clue as to who killed her?”
“I’d like to take credit,” said Lizzy, “but I was with you the entire time. You have her bumped off and not tell me?”
“I don’t mind her being gone.” I really couldn’t find it within myself to have any sympathy for the woman. All of that had burned away weeks earlier. “But I had nothing to do with it. If she’d come back on her own after shooting her husband, I would have seen that she was dealt with.”
“Tied her to a tree?”
I shrugged. “I don’t know if I would have killed her. She was crazy, really crazy. Oh, she knew what she was doing, but still nuts. I think maybe I would have driven her a hundred miles south and left her there.”
“Better to just shoot her. Julie would never have survived on her own.”
“Might be easier on Michael.”
“No telling. That kid’s going to be all messed up with what’s happened to his family, most of the others too.”
Bending down, I gave the body a cursory search to see if there were any weapons. Nothing.
“What are we going to tell people? By that, I mean you.”
Good question. Julie had been murdered. Well, it could have been self-defense I suppose, although I found that unlikely. It didn’t matter. We had no way to prove anything, not even to guess. My head was beginning to hurt.
“We’re going to say we found her dead and that she’s no longer a threat.” I fired a shot into the ground. “We’re close enough that Briana and the others would have heard that. Everyone will assume she was a zombie. Case closed. We won’t even have to lie, not really.”
“People might ask for details.”
“Maybe. Maybe not. Anyway, she’s gone now. Good enough for me.”
I resisted the urge to spit on her.
“Let’s head back. I don’t think we’re going to find anything else.”
“Nothing that tops this,”
agreed Lizzy. “If it was anyone else, I’d say let’s take the time to bury her, but for Julie, nah, let the fucking ants eat her.”
Interlude – Diary
The diary Briana found provided us with a sliver of valuable information and a tremendous amount of nonsense, most of which was related to who was dating whom, which classes were boring – the young woman was still in high school – what brands were in style, which were to be avoided, and so forth. After skimming through the entire volume, it was determined that only the final pages contained anything of interest, namely how this particular individual dealt with the outbreak and survived the first few days. It was quite detailed, but the one thing missing was her name.
I initially considered copying the relevant entries but decided against it. First of all, the grammar and spelling are horrendous. This girl clearly did not receive an A in English class, possibly not even a passing grade. She reminded me somewhat of Nathan in that regard. I could, of course, correct this problem, but that was a lot of work and I’m not inclined to put forth the effort. It’s easier and more effective to simply relate the story we drew from her writings.
So, here is the tale of our nameless, faceless, unknown heroine. It began as with so many others. She was at home, sound asleep, when the initial change occurred. The key difference was that she was not attacked during the night. Instead, upon waking the teenager found the front door ajar and her entire family missing. She closed and locked the door, not understanding what might be happening, tried to telephone them to no avail, and eventually turned on the television.
After realizing the news stories were indeed factual, the girl began to peer out the windows, wanting to see for herself. This proved to be a dreadful mistake. She was quickly spotted by several zombies who assaulted the house. They broke inside in short order, and the teenager was forced to flee. She managed to grab her backpack and rush out the back – a few belongings had been packed ahead of time in case she decided to make a run for it.
Surviving The Zombie Apocalypse (Book 1): Sanctuary Page 31
