I dressed in the clothes I had worn yesterday, but not before giving them the sniff test and determining they didn't have much left in them. I'd have to go down to the stream later today and wash them.
I could just toss them, but I was pretty fond of the blue uniform I'd been lugging around for the best part of a month. It was a set of Naval officer BDUs I had found in a house we'd cleaned out a few weeks ago. The best part was that they were thick and fit me pretty well even though the legs were a little bit short for my frame.
The pants had a number of pockets, and the thick shirt was perfect for avoiding scratches while crashing through the woods. I buckled on my belt and slid the 9mm inside the holster after double checking to make sure I was locked.
Joel was already up, and like a true marine, he had his assault rifle laid out in pieces. He had a can of motor oil and a rag to clean the gun with. He wore a gray tactical jacket that had more pockets than my shirt and pants combined.
"Cleaning that bolt carrier, eh?" I said.
"Never should have taught you all the part names."
"Oiling the barrel under thingy," I countered.
Joel rolled his eyes.
"Everyone cool last night?" I asked.
"Christy and I took turns keeping watch. It was quiet," he said.
"I'm less worried about them," I said, lowering my voice.
"Me too and, so far, they haven't proven to be a threat. Plus, they are helpful," Joel said. "Except Katherine. That girl is haunted, man."
"I know. Erik said he hopes she will come around. We could always give them their walking papers," I offered.
"Might be best," Joel said, "but I think you made the right call when you went back for them."
"I get that feeling, too." I nodded.
"But the minute they fuck up, I'll know about it," Joel said and slid the bolt carrier assembly back inside his assault rifle with a click.
"I'm going to check our traps. Maybe we'll have some meat this morning."
"If you guys caught a deer, I'll gut the damn thing," Joel said and nodded at the big marine knife at his side.
"Be lucky if we catch a squirrel."
Joel offered his fist as I left, I tapped it and left him with a cloud of gas from last night's dinner.
"You're fucking nasty, Creed!" he called out as I closed the door.
I was pretty sure he chuckled. Might have been a grumble. Hard to tell when it came to that Marine.
What Fresh Hell is This?
The morning air was crisp and cool. I went to the garage and picked up my new weapon. The pipe had been heavy to begin with. Now that it had a concrete cap inside, it was weighted almost as well as my wrench. The hooked end would be perfect for bashing in heads. I'd just have to construct a sling so I could carry it under my arm.
When I got back, I planned to paint it red with the same paint we'd used to write our warning sign on Fortress’s front door.
I walked to the fence and slid aside our handmade gate and stepped out into pasture. The walk was uneventful, but finding the deadfalls was not. Both had collapsed during the night.
Scott's trap had a tail sticking out. When I lifted the big rock, I found a raccoon. The poor guy still had the apple stuck in his mouth and his body had flattened.
My deadfall revealed a rabbit.
I took both carcasses out, tossed them aside, and then spent the next twenty minutes trying to reset the traps.
After a few tries, I got them set and smiled at my work. Then I swore because I'd forgotten the most important part. Bait.
"Fuck a duck," I groaned.
I wandered into the little copse of woods looking for the apple tree we'd found the day before. I had to shrug through branches and bushwhacking leaves before I spotted a half-dozen small green apples on the ground. I picked up a few, found one that wasn't completely mushy, brushed it on my shirt, and then took a bite.
Something moved in the woods.
I ducked and waited, pipe in hand, ready to go to work if I had to.
A twig broke a hundred feet away. Then something hit a pile of leaves. I held my breath, ready for a party of Zs to crash through the woods.
I couldn't stop looking around as I crouched.
Another twig cracked, and then a branch whacked a tree.
I shifted on my knees and tried to get a better look. The low mist was just about to dissipate, and that's when he came into view.
Either way he was gorgeous. Huge antlers and big brown eyes. I considered drawing my 9mm and trying to shoot the elk, but I'd likely miss and bring a hundred Zs our way.
So, I watched him until he wandered away, but I wasn't happy about it. That big bastard would feed us for a week. Smoked meat, stew, ribs! Oh my god, ribs! I put my hand on the 9mm and slid it out.
Something rustled nearby, but I couldn't tear my eyes of the elk. He turned his head as if listening for something. His flank was turned to me, and I was pretty sure I could shoot him in the side, get his heart. Chase him down if he didn't go down. I could probably get off two or three shots. Hell, I'd be a fucking hero even if I did bring every Z in the vicinity our way. We could all hunker down, wait them out. Zs ain't that bright. They see something shiny in the distance and they just wander off.
Just as I had convinced myself I could take him down, something crashed into me. I staggered to the side, got my hand on the ground, and hobble-stepped away.
The elk bolted like a shot, feet easily finding purchase on the forest ground, then he was gone.
The Z was on me.
I'd done the a few things wrong today. Should have gone out with backup. Shouldn't have been staring at an unobtainable goal like fresh meat. They both almost cost me.
The Z was gnarly. Half of his face had been burned off, and the other half was a slag of melted meat and broken pustules. Green oozed from his working eye. His mouth was stuck wide open, and his teeth were a jagged nightmare.
The stench was overwhelming. He hadn't just died, he'd burned up, sat in some shit, and then eaten something rancid. His belly was huge, and it moved as if something was trying to get out.
I tried to roll but it had my feet. Teeth quested for my flesh but locked on to my pants and ripped.
I kicked back and my boot heel hit his head and slid across a lake of slime.
He pulled himself up my legs, hands locking tightly on my thighs as he struggled to find meat. I tried to roll over, but he was a big one and pushed me back onto my stomach.
I dragged out the 9mm but my fear of calling more Zs overrode my desire to blow his brains out.
I got my hands under me and pushed until I was able to roll over.
He pulled on my belt, dragging himself up my body, one good eye locked on my throat. His left hand was missing a few fingers, his right hand, though, was intact if covered in burned and open wounds that wept puss. His fingers latched onto my face, index finger hooked my lip. The desire to give a Z back what they had tried to do to me for so long, that is, take a bite, nearly overrode my common sense.
I batted his hand aside and wished I had a gallon of rubbing alcohol to wash my mouth out.
His weight held me down. I dug around the leaves for my pipe but I couldn't find it.
My right hand looped around and crashed into his head with the butt of the pistol. He slipped to the side but came right back at me. I pushed with both feet, digging at the ground, and propelled myself from his grasp. His mouth closed on my leg but thankfully he couldn't close his jaw so he didn't get a taste.
My questing fingers finally found the pipe. I swung it, and the heavy end that Scott had helped me fill with cement, bounced off the top of the Z’s head. His head fell across my chest and blood erupted, splattering across my torso and face. The Z grabbed my shoulder and pulled himself up. His face came into view, bulging eye on one side and burned out one on the other. I reared my arm back and hit him again. The head of the pipe didn't make contact, but the haft did. I rolled him to the side and struggled to get free. As I
got up on one elbow, I swung the pipe again, and this time the weapon did the trick.
The Zs head was completely caved in, and he wasn't ever going to move again.
I reared back with the pipe, and smashed it one more time. Rotted brain matter splattered and coated the ground. His leg kicked so I hit him again for good measure.
Then he was still.
Shaking, body weary from the fight, mind reeling from seeing the elk and being unable to kill it, I packed up my kills, and headed back for Fortress, but not before I finished resetting the traps and adding fresh bait. I desperately needed a bath and a Brillo pad to clean my face and mouth.
"What happened to you?" Anna asked as I closed the bedroom door behind me.
"I got jumped by some gang bangers," I said.
"Glad you fought them off. So how many were there?"
"One," I said and slipped out of my gore-covered flannel shirt.
"One Z did this to you?"
Anna wore a little gray tank top and pink booty shorts. Anyone who knew Anna knew how unlike her that looked. But I wasn't surprised. Anna might be at home with a gun in her hand, or kicking Z ass, but she also wasn't afraid to be feminine when she wanted. She had been doing yoga on a red mat on the floor when I barged in. I was lucky enough to catch her in downward dog. Her legs were toned and her hamstrings practically popped.
"Don't get up on my account. I don't mind the view," I said. "And yeah. It was one bastard. Half his face was burned off. He caught me by surprise."
Anna lowered herself to the ground, extended her head, and then rolled up so her back arched.
"I wasn't planning to get up." She turned and looked at me. "Jackson, you should have gone out with someone. What if one of them had gotten you?"
I dropped my pants next to my bloody flannel shirt, and then pulled my T-shirt off. Jesus, gore had somehow managed to stain it as well. With the wealth of clothing I decided to just toss it in the trash.
"I had it under control," I said.
"Control my ass. Look at your clothes. If you think I'm cleaning those—"
"I know. I got it. I'll wash them in the creek later today."
Anna nodded and rolled over and sat down on the mat.
"Good," she said. "I have a surprise for you."
"I like surprises," I said.
"Look in the bathroom."
I tugged my socks off and tossed them on top of the pile of clothes. I opened the master bathroom door and peered inside. The sink was covered with toothbrushes, toothpaste, mouthwash, some lotions, and a tube of ChapStick.
"What am I looking at?"
"In the tub, Dummy," Anna said.
I walked to the edge of the bathtub and peered inside. Water sat there, nearly halfway to the top. I touched it and found it was a little more than lukewarm.
"Damn," I muttered.
"Christy helped me carry up a few buckets of boiling water. We made a few trips from outside for the rest," Anna said.
"For me? It's not even my birthday," I said.
Anna approached me and wrapped her arms around my waist.
"It was for me, but I decided to give you a few more minutes to get back," she said.
I turned and she met me with a look I couldn't read. "What's wrong?"
"You going out like that without backup. Idiot," she said and thumped my chest with her hand.
"I'm sorry. I just ran out to check out traps. Got some fresh meat for dinner," I tried to sound upbeat but she was right. I was an idiot.
"Just get your clothes off and get in the tub," she said.
"I thought the water was for you?"
Anna tugged her tank top off, and then slipped her shorts to the floor. "It is. Now move."
Following the bath, we didn't leave the bedroom for another hour.
I spent some time at the creek washing my clothes. Christy popped out with me and chatted about everything from the new people to how she was planning to grow potatoes in the backyard. She said she had a plan for how to do it.
"What do you know about growing potatoes?" I asked her.
She crouched upstream from me and dipped one hand in the water. It flowed over her palm before she lifted it to her lips to drink. Her hair had grown long and flowed around her shoulders. Sometimes Anna would braid Christy’s hair but, for the most part, she left it free. She'd put a couple of flowers behind one of her ears.
"I read a book, Jackson. Those things with covers and pages in between."
"Words and stuff?" I scratched my head.
"Yeah. Words and stuff, plus pictures," Christy teased.
"Pictures! That reminds me. I found a coloring book in the living room. I set it on top of the book case for you."
"Do I look like a kid?"
"Yeah. Kinda. But this was called an adult coloring book. The images looked pretty complicated," I said.
"Why would adults want to color?"
"I don't know, to relax and unwind?"
"I'll find you some crayons."
"Cool. You do a page and I'll do one," I said.
"Hah. You're on," Christy smiled.
I scrubbed as much of the blood and gore as I could, then banged the shirt against a large rock. Then I soaped it up again and plunged it into the ice cold water.
"So, potatoes?" I asked Christy.
"Oh yeah," Christy flipped her hair over one shoulder and splashed water on her face. "So you take a potato, cut it into chunks, making sure each piece has at least two eyes. That's the little black spots."
"So not live eyes," I said and opened mine wide and rolled them around in the sockets."
"Good practice for hiding out with zombies," Christy splashed water at me. "So you take the chunks and plant them a four inches deep. Then we mix the dirt with manure from Betsy and spread it on top. Water it and wait."
"I only see one problem with this idea. And it is a good one," I said.
"The poop isn't that bad. I've touched worse stuff over the last six months."
"The potatoes. Where are we going to find them?"
"See, I thought you and Joel could find some on your next run. They look like plants and they have flowers. I can show you a picture," Christy said. "You missed a spot."
"This whole shirt is a loss. That blood's never coming out."
"Just toss it. We have lots," Christy said.
"So you want us to look for potato plants. Anna wants us to look for mint leaves. Anything else we can pick from any hypothetical gardens we come across?" I asked.
"Now that you mention it, how about some strawberries, oh, and tomatoes." Christy laughed. "And a bunch of chicken nuggets if you can find them growing on a tree."
"I think you need a dip in the stream," I said and rose.
"Not this kid." Christy splashed more water at me and dashed back toward the house.
I rose, a knee popped, and decided not to give pursuit. I'd figure out a way to get her back today.
Erik went out with Joel a few hours before noon to hunt, but they came back empty handed. They also didn't come back covered in gore like I had the day before. But he wore a grimace I'd seen too many times. Usually when I'd messed something up and he was considering driving his big Marine knife through my heart.
I had been minding my own business in the dining room, reading from some old entertainment magazines featuring scantily clad women. I had looked at these same magazines a hundred times, and they hadn't gotten any better.
Joel dumped the Remington 783 bolt action hunting rifle in the corner, and then glared at it for a few seconds like it was covered in lice or something.
"What happened, Timmy? No food in the well?" I asked.
"We had a beautiful elk in our sights, about a mile from here. Big and meaty. Would have fed us for days," Joel said.
"Got spooked," Erik said.
"Nah, man. I own it. I got greedy." Joel said. "My bad."
"Could have happened to anyone," Erik said. "Don't blame yourself. We went out as a team so it's a team fail
."
"Fuck," Joel cursed.
"Oh shit! I saw that same son of a bitch yesterday, and he nearly got me killed," I interrupted.
“What happened?” Joel asked.
“I kinda got jumped by a rotter. He crashed out of the damn woods and caught me with my pants down,” I said.
“How many times, bro? Don’t go out there alone,” Joel said.
“You do it all the time,” I argued.
“That’s fair because I do,” Joel said. “I’ll follow my own advice from now on.”
“So your Moby Dick? What happened,” I said.
"I got distracted, thought something else was in the woods. I shifted my aim and hit a branch," Joel said. "Rookie mistake."
"Don't be so hard on yourself. It's easy to get spooked," Erik said.
Joel getting spooked? Erik didn't understand that ice ran through Joel's veins.
"Truth is, I was already thinking about ways to make elk. Ribs, steaks, some kind of pot roast. Goddamn. I might have drooling a little bit. Saw something out the corner of my eye and just wanted to look at it with the scope."
"How far were you from the elk?" I asked.
"So close it was pathetic. He just wandered into our line of sight maybe thirty, thirty-five feet away. Then I hit a branch and that son of a bitch bolted like someone lit his ass on fire. I didn't even get a shot off," Joel said.
"We'll go back in the morning. I bet that elk will be back. Give you a second chance," Erik said.
“Uh. Third chance between us,” I interjected.
"Damn, we suck," Joel said.
"We'll get Moby next time," I said.
Fresh cooked meat over a fire. Oh my god. I almost started drooling.
Joel grumped around for a few minutes, dug out some stale crackers from one of the pantries, and munched on them. I turned my attention back to an article about The Oscars from 2011. I wondered how many of these millionaire actors and actresses now wandered the Hollywood streets as zombies.
Scott opened the back door poked his head inside. "You guys hungry?"
Joel scowled and ate another chip.
"Hell yeah, I am," I said.
"Lookie here," Scott said and held up two squirrels.
Z-Risen (Book 5): Barriers Page 9
