AniZombie

by Ricky Sides

  Herb, who was standing with his back to the open door of the building, felt a tap on his shoulder. “We’re ready,” the same woman he had just spoken to whispered.

  Herb nodded and led the way. He would need to board the boat first, because he would be operating the motors. The women and children would follow him. Due to the weight of the passengers, it would take both of the other men to push the boat back out into the water.

  As the women scrambled aboard the boat, Herb pointed to positions in the bottom where they should sit. A large, dark colored dog jumped in and sat down beside them. The night air on the river was cold and damp, but he had come prepared. He took a folded wool blanket off the floor beside his seat, stood up and unfolded it, and then draped it over the seated passengers, who tucked it in around their bodies to insulate themselves from the elements. The women had the children seated between them. “You need to keep the dog quiet,” Herb cautioned the women.

  He felt the boat begin to slide backwards and grabbed his boat seat to maintain his balance. He sat down as the other two men finished launching the boat and hopped inside. Randy whispered for James to join the other passengers on the bottom of the boat, and then he took his seat.

  Herb used the trolling motor to turn the boat in the right direction. The current that had worked against them as they tried to reach the refugees now worked in their favor. The boat moved a good bit faster with the trolling motor than it had earlier.

  Herb, the patrol boat is coming back,” Randy warned, still speaking in quiet tones.

  “All of you passengers lie down and cover up with the blanket,” Herb ordered the refugees. “If the patrol boat stops us, don’t move a muscle, and don’t make a sound. I’ll try to bluff my way out of it. But I’m hoping we can avoid being stopped.”

  The passengers followed Herb’s instructions as he maneuvered the boat along the river, fifty feet or so from the bank.

  “They are taking their time with the search,” Randy reported in a more normal tone of voice because the patrol boat was several hundred yards away.

  “So I see,” Herb replied.

  “Oh shit! I think I see what they are looking for, Herb,” Randy said. He was using a pair of binoculars to scan the river in the moonlight. “There are a couple of people in a canoe trying to make it across the river to the other side.”

  “Where?” asked Herb. He was wondering if it would be possible for them to go back and pick up the people.

  “They are halfway between us and the patrol boat, but further across the river by a couple of hundred feet. They are paddling on a diagonal,” Randy responded as he turned his body slightly in order to track their progress. “I think they are trying to get past the search grid,” he added.

  “We can’t help them. They are too close to the patrol,” Herb said.

  Herb started the Evinrude motor that he had shut down when they reached the bank at the pickup point earlier. He let it idle for a moment while he killed the trolling motor, and then he applied a little throttle. The speed of their passage along the river increased markedly, which was what Herb wanted. He was afraid that the people in the canoe would unintentionally lead the patrol boat to them.

  As the gap between their boat and the patrol boat widened, Herb decided it was time to begin their own diagonal course. He took a gentle angle as he opened the throttle a bit more.

  “They spotted the people in the canoe,” Randy informed Herb.

  The sound of an amplified voice reached them as the patrol ordered the people in the canoe to turn their boat around and go back to Decatur.

  “That’s it for them. They got caught,” Randy said.

  The sound of gunfire reached their ears.

  “What the hell!” Randy exclaimed. He brought the binoculars back to his eyes and studied the confrontation. “One of the people in the canoe is shooting at the patrol boat,” he said as more gunfire disrupted the otherwise quiet night. Then they heard the unmistakable sound of M4s opening fire.

  It seemed to Herb as if the crew of the patrol boat emptied their thirty round magazines at the canoe and its passengers. He took advantage of the noise to throttle the Evinrude up to half throttle. The instant the gunfire stopped, he reduced the speed again, but by then, they had widened the gap significantly.

  “They are moving their boat over to the canoe, but both of the people are gone. They went over the side during the shooting. I guess they were hit,” Randy said. He shook his head. “What were they thinking?”

  “They were probably thinking that it would be better to die trying to escape than to be eaten alive by the damned zombies,” James said angrily. “The military isn’t leaving people many options.”

  The light from the patrol boat grew smaller and smaller as Herb steered their boat away on an oblique angle. Twenty-seven minutes later, Randy and Herb loaded the boat on the trailer. The people they had rescued sat in the back of the truck in the shelter of the large camper shell that covered the bed.

  They dropped their passengers off at a farmhouse between Decatur and Athens that belonged to James Baxter’s parents. It turned out that he was married to Laura. James and Laura were the parents of the two children. Janie, the other woman, was James’ younger sister. They all lived in Decatur and had been trying to evacuate to the farm when the bridges were closed. They stayed at the closed factory while James worked on a plan to build a raft. They had lived on the food in the vending machines and stayed inside most of the time. They had found the big dog they had named Ox. He was wandering around looking for food, and Janie had taken the animal under her wing.

  Before they left, Janie approached Herb and Randy and thanked them for saving her. Then she said, “I took care of Ox because I was afraid that he would die if I didn’t, but I can’t keep him. Dad wouldn’t permit it. He hates Pit Bulls, and while Ox isn’t a purebred, it’s obvious he’s more Pit than anything else.”

  “Why does your dad hate Pits?” asked Randy curiously.

  “One took to killing his chickens a few years back. It killed fourteen before Dad caught it in the act and shot it. Now, he won’t permit one on his property,” responded Janie.

  “I’ll take him with us. Tomorrow, I’ll see about getting him a home,” Herb promised.

  Chapter 4

  Preparations

  Herb opened the back tailgate and told Ox to hop in. The animal obeyed and seemed content to curl up in the bed next to the cab of the truck. Herb shut the tailgate and said goodbye to the Baxters. He and Randy still had to drop off the boat and get back to Athens.

  During their trip to drop the boat off at his friend’s home, Herb and Randy discussed their plans.

  “What are we going to do? Randy asked. “I mean, I feel better since we rescued the Baxters, but tomorrow we may send hundreds, maybe even thousands of people back into that hell hole.”

  “I can’t do that anymore.”

  “What do you mean? We have to follow orders,” Randy pointed out.

  Herb thought about how he wanted to answer his friend, but he was tired and didn’t feel up to going into a long discussion, so he just said, “I guess I mean I won’t do that anymore.”

  “Sergeant Shannon will go berserk. We won’t have any choice. Hell, he may even threaten to shoot us,” Randy argued.

  “That’s why I’m not going back,” Herb said bluntly.

  “You’re going AWOL?” asked Randy.

  “Or deserting. Take your pick.”

  “But, Herb...”

  “Look, Randy, I’m going to lay this out for you as simply as I can, so try to follow me. Okay?”

  “Sure. Go ahead. I’m listening.”

  “This zombie thing has already broken containment in Decatur. There is no way to contain it. All we are doing is forcing a few people back. The smart people wanting out will get out easily. All they have to do is walk cross-country. Hell, they could even use bikes or ATVs. We can’t stop them all. The best we can hope to accomplish is to stop people from using the ro
ads.”

  “Yes, you have a point,” Randy admitted. “So what do you think is going to happen next?”

  “The surrounding communities will see outbreaks. All of them will be crawling with the zombies. It’s just a matter of time. Then it will spread again. At some point, it will cross state lines, if it hasn’t already. The states will fall, just like the cities in Alabama.”

  “Then what happens?” Randy asked.

  Herb shrugged and said, “Those who are prepared may, just may, survive. Those who aren’t prepared won’t stand a chance in hell. The cities will become slaughterhouses. If you want to survive, you’ll have to become isolated from major population centers.”

  “Yeah, we’ve seen what it’s like in Decatur,” Randy responded. Then he said, “When you say prepared, you’re talking about weapons, ammo and food, right?”

  “Yes, among other things, but those are the main concerns, at least at first. We’ll also need fire making things, water purification equipment, and emergency medical supplies.”

  “Water purification is easy enough. Just boil it,” Randy countered.

  “In most cases, yes, it would be that easy. Of course, you’ve got to have water to boil first, not to mention a container to boil it in, and a fire to heat the water. All of those simple things sound easy to us now, but after a few weeks or months out in the wild, we might find it much tougher. We would also need long term survival plans.”

  “Oh?” Randy asked.

  “Yeah. The supplies we take with us will last for a while, but what then? Where will we get our food and clothing after that? Not to mention weapons.”

  “You really think the whole country will get overrun by the zombies?” asked Randy.

  “Don’t you? You’ve seen first hand what has happened in Decatur in less than a week, and that started with one sick man.”

  “I think the government may nuke us,” Randy said. “If they really want to stop the spread of this zombie thing, they could do it that way.”

  “Maybe. Then again, maybe not. Remember, there are Tennessee guardsmen at the bridge tonight, and there were reporters in the city from all over the place the other day, so it could be too late to contain it in Northern Alabama, even with nukes.”

  Randy sighed and ran his hand over his face tiredly. “Okay, so what should we do?” he asked Herb as they drove down a rural country road.

  “First, we call in tomorrow and tell the Guard that we’re sick. Then we spend the day preparing and talking to our friends. We should warn them and see if they want to join us at the cabin.”

  ***

  It was past midnight when Herb walked back into his house for the night. He left Ox on his porch, but took the dog a bowl of water and another filled with beef stew. That was all he had in the house that he thought the animal would eat. The dog sniffed the contents of the bowl and then fell on it with a ravenous appetite.

  “I’ll see about finding you a home tomorrow, boy,” Herb promised the animal. The dog looked up at him for a moment. The porch light was on, so this was the first time Herb had a chance to get a good look at the animal. He was surprised to see that the dog was the same mixed breed he had scared away on the bridge a few days back. He knelt down on one knee and examined the dog’s chest. Sure enough, the white pattern he had seen under the magnification of his scope was there.

  Herb was alarmed, so he took the time to examine the dog carefully, but there was no sign of any injury.

  He was tired, but wanted to shower after his nocturnal adventures. Afterwards, he lay in bed and tried to get to sleep, but couldn’t. His mind was racing with ideas about what he should purchase the next day. Sighing in frustration, Herb rolled from his right side to his back. “Damnit, I need to get some sleep. Fighting the crowd in Walmart tomorrow is going to be tough enough if I’m well rested. If I go in there half asleep, it’s going to be pure hell,” he thought.

  Herb sat bolt upright and smiled as it occurred to him that the Walmart Supercenter in Athens would be all but deserted this time of the night. He jumped up, got dressed, and then headed out to his truck.

  Ox met him at the vehicle. “You want to go for a ride, boy?” Herb asked the big dog.

  The canine looked at the tailgate of the truck and wagged his tail. Herb chuckled and dropped the tailgate so that the animal could jump inside, and then he closed it behind him.

  Herb lived less than two miles from the Walmart, so he was there in a matter of minutes. He opened the camper shell door on the back of his truck and told Ox that he would be back in a few minutes. He stood there a moment making the decision as to whether to close the camper door or leave it open so Ox could get some air. It was a warm night, but it wasn’t hot, so he opted to shut the door.

  Herb went through the grocery section of the store. He concentrated on canned goods, selecting several products that included meat. He bought dozens of cans each of spaghetti and meatballs, chicken a la king, beef and gravy, canned chicken, Beeferoni, and ravioli. He wanted the meat dishes to supplement the rice and vegetables he intended to buy as well.

  Herb decided to fill the cart with those products, which he would pay for, and then drop off in the back of his truck. He planned to make several trips while the shelves were full and the store was almost empty. At the cash register, he was about to pay for his purchases when he noticed that he didn’t have enough cash to cover the expensive load of food. He took out his credit card and paid the bill with it. Herb had always been careful to avoid high credit card debt because of the interest rates associated with them. He had excellent credit, and a high limit, but he seldom used it. As he was pushing his cart to the truck, it occurred to him that he might as well make all of his purchases with the card. If he were right about the spread of the zombies, then in a week or two, it wouldn’t matter because the economy would have collapsed.

  Ox greeted him when he opened the tailgate. Herb unloaded the many bags of cans and told Ox to guard them while he returned to the store.

  This time, he bought a cartload of all sorts of vegetables. The items included Veg-all, for soups and stews, green beans, canned potatoes, spinach, collard greens, boiled cabbage, pinto beans, great northern beans, corn, and carrots.

  This time when he went to pay for his purchases, the cashier looked at him suspiciously and said, “Dude, what are you doing, stocking up for a zombie apocalypse?”

  Herb looked at her sharply, causing the middle-aged woman to say, “I’m sorry. It was a joke.”

  “It’s okay. If you’ve been watching the news, then you know what’s going on over in Decatur.”

  “I’ve seen some of that, yes. I think it’s probably drug related.”

  “It’s not. I’m a national guardsman. I spent four days and nights on the bridge. It’s for real. My advice to you is to stock up and be ready to get out of town when it begins to show up here.”

  “You’re serious?” asked the woman whose nametag said her name was Tracey.

  Herb smiled and said, “Serious enough that I just bought two cart loads of food and will be back for more as soon as I put this in my truck.”

  “Well, you’ve got the meats and vegetables covered,” the cashier responded.

  “Yes, so now I need some other necessities. I’ll see you soon,” Herb said, and then he exited the store.

  Ox greeted him again and watched with his head cocked at an angle as Herb unloaded the cart. “Guard the truck, boy,” he said to the dog, and then he closed and latched the camper shell door, and returned to the store.

  This time, Herb bought a cartload of toilet paper and topped it off with several pound containers of salt, as well as dozens of disposable lighters. Tracey rang up his purchases and said, “I’ve got to tell you that you’ve really got me thinking.”

  “Good. That’s the first step. I’ll be right back. This load should unload fast.”

  As Herb walked out the door, he heard a startled scream. He snapped his face in the direction of the scream and saw a man runnin
g away from his truck. The camper shell door, which he had closed, was now open, and Ox’s front feet were resting on the tailgate. His head was sticking out and he was barking at the fleeing man.

  “Good, boy,” Herb said when he reached the truck. He looked in the direction that the man had fled and saw a car peeling out in the parking lot and heading for an exit.

  “I guess it’s safe to go back inside with you guarding the truck,” Herb said to Ox as he closed the camper shell door.

  Herb bought several more shopping cart loads of items he felt would be needed at the cabin, including more canned meats, fruit, and vegetables. His last trip was to purchase ammunition. He knew the sporting goods section in the store wasn’t staffed at that time of the night, but hoped to be able to get a manager to help him make the purchases he wanted to make.

  When Herb spoke to the manager, it was pretty clear to him that the man didn’t want to deal with an ammunition purchase. He advised Herb to return after 9:00 A.M.

  “I won’t be able to do that,” Herb responded. “I’m in the National Guard and I’m scheduled to man the bridge to keep the crazies contained tomorrow.” Then he said, “Look, I know this is a pain in the butt for you, but I really do need to make these purchases tonight. I have no idea when I’ll be released from deployment again, and by then, there won’t be any ammunition available.”

  “Do you know something I don’t?” asked the manager curiously.

  Herb shrugged his shoulders. “It’s no secret that the zombies have broken containment already. Once they start attacking people in this county, I imagine your ammo supplies will be gone in a few hours.”

  “Maybe I should pick up some for my pistol,” the manager responded thoughtfully.

  “I would,” Herb nodded in agreement.

  “Okay, buddy, I’ll sell you what you want, within reason,” the manager said.

  Herb bought a couple of 100 round boxes of .22 long rifle, which was the limit on that ammunition. Then he purchased a dozen boxes of 12 gauge shotgun shells for his two personal weapons. He also bought five extra magazines for his Smith and Wesson M&P 15-22, which was all they had available.