by C. Dulaney
“Can you see them yet?” I asked.
“Nope, but they’re close. What’s your twenty?”
“Halfway down the mountain, be there in fifteen. I want you to move your Jeep around, block off part of the street leaving town. We figure those bastards are trailing Mia, and if they get past you, they’ll likely head straight for the house. I’ll position my car next to yours, hopefully block off the rest of the street,” I instructed.
“Yeah, okay, I see what you’re sayin’. I hope you’re bringin’ more ammo.”
“Well I’m not deliverin’ flowers and cake. Kasey out,” I sighed off, laughing. Jake was doing the same, no doubt getting the same strange look I was getting from those watching.
He handed the radio to Ben and pulled his keys from his pocket. They nodded once to one another, an understanding passing between them, before Jake hurried off the roof. Ben turned to Kyra and smiled.
“You okay?” he asked. She nodded and gave him a thumbs up, then pulled the butt of her rifle against her shoulder and watched the end of the street through her scope.
* * *
The road through Matias was mercifully straight, wider in the middle because of the store and post office, but narrow at the ends. I was pretty sure two vehicles, parked end to end across the road, just past the last set of houses, would be enough to stop the deadheads from getting through. Dam it up, in other words. But if it turned out our two wasn’t enough, then we’d have to push another car or something into position. There were half a dozen parked along the street and in driveways to choose from.
We pulled up to Jake’s Jeep just as the first of the undead started bobbing into view at the other end of town. Zack swore under his breath, but whipped us around and backed in snug against the Jeep’s bumper. This was going to work; the two blocked the road from ditch to ditch, and if any tried going into the woods, we’d just have to take care of that if and when it came up.
Zack and I unloaded the back seat silently and quickly, each taking a rifle (I had my .243, Zack had the .30-.06), he carried the bag of ammo, and I grabbed the small hunting seats. I figured if we were going to be at this as long as I thought we would be, it’d be nice to sit and shoot, rather than stand. And these seats were really no larger than a footstool, made of canvas, and folded like a lawn chair. It was awkward carrying so much, and my shoulder was hurting like a bitch, so Zack relieved me of a couple of the seats. I really didn’t want to make more than one trip, seeing as we now had company.
“Is it just me, or does this feel like a Western?” he asked as we entered the store. I laughed, said the blockade did make me feel John Wayne-ish, and continued on through to the back. Ben met us at the stairwell, where I transferred some of my load onto him, and we followed him up.
“Hey kids, what the hell took ya so long?” Jake asked. He was sitting on the raised ledge, facing us, his .243 resting against his leg and pointing down towards the rooftop, a smoke dangling from his lips. Kyra was huddled in the corner with a clear look of disappointment on her face. I smirked at Jake before dropping the seats and laying my gun down.
“Help me set these up,” I said quietly to Ben. “I want them spread out along the edge, maybe five feet or so apart. Zack, would you hand out the ammo please?” They both hurried along with their tasks as I took the two seats I held over to where Jake was perched.
“What’s the plan, Boss?” he asked as I unfolded and set up our seats. I straightened up and rubbed my shoulder (it felt moist under my jacket, so no doubt my stitches had pulled and I was bleeding a little), then motioned for the binoculars that hung around his neck.
“Well, I’ve got a hundred rounds for each rifle. That gives us five hundred, give or take. The exit is blocked, so basically we sit and wait for them to get into range. I’d say about two hundred yards or less. Then we start shooting,” I said as I watched the horde come into view. They were spread out across the road, straggling and stumbling along at a slow pace. The smell was horrible, but thankfully the wind had died down, which would be quite helpful in regards to the shooting part of the plan.
Jake nodded silently as I spoke, and once Ben had the other seats set up and Zack had the ammo distributed, I handed the binoculars back and went over for my rifle. The others were gathered around Jake, watching down the road with dread written all over their faces. My own heart was racing, the pounding whoosh-whoosh of blood in my ears almost loud enough to drown out the moaning. I knew I had to control this situation, calm them down, calm myself down. We couldn’t afford to waste ammo because of a bad case of nerves. From the looks of it, we’d be damned lucky to have enough the way it was.
“Alright guys, listen up,” I began, my focus moving from one face to another as they gathered around me. “We’re going to take them down, one at a time. Don’t rush, don’t get in a hurry. I know some of you haven’t had much practice, but last thing we want to do is waste ammo with crazy shots, and we don’t want to clog the street down there with a zombie dam. So we start at the front. Once they’re down, wait until the next line comes through, then take them. So on and so forth. We want them to keep moving this way, not get jammed up down there, got it?” Everyone nodded eagerly.
“Set a pace for yourselves. Squeeze off every other second or so, make each move deliberate. They’re not in a hurry, so neither are we. If you need to stop and take a break, then by all means, do it. I’m not sure how long I’ll be able to shoot, since my shoulder’s still jacked up. If it turns out I can’t, then I’ll be your reloader. When you’re empty, call it out. I’ll come over and reload, while you rest a minute. Head shots only. Okay, let’s get into position.”
I had left that infernal sling at the house, and my shoulder was starting to scream in pain. But I had a large bathroom towel, and I was going to try shooting with it rolled up and wedged between my rifle and my shoulder. Things were happening so fast, I kept forgetting how recently I had been shot. Really, I had no business moving around and doing as much as I had been. But shit happens sometimes. Zack took position at the opposite corner from Kyra, with Jake, me, and Ben in between. Jake and I had to share ammo, since we both had .243’s and I only had one large box for the shells. Kyra had the .17, and Ben had the .223.
I checked the distance with my rangefinder and saw the front of the swarm was about three hundred yards out. They were passing by the Hoskins’ place.
“Everyone locked and loaded?” I asked. Heads were nodding and Jake was smiling as I looked up and down the line. “They’re at three hundred, just sit tight,” I said aloud. Then a little softer, I spoke to Jake on my left. “Have any trouble with Tommy last night?”
“Nah. I watched his place for about twenty minutes, and I could see him movin’ around inside. But he never offered to fire on any of us,” Jake said. I nodded, my lips set in a grim line, and wondered what Tommy would do now. There was no way to know how much ammo he still had, but I knew from experience that the boy could shoot.
“Somethin’s up with Kyra too. Not sure what exactly, but my gut’s tellin’ me it’s bad,” Jake whispered quickly, as though it was an afterthought. I studied him sharply for a long moment, nodded once, and then turned my focus back on the problem at hand. One thing at a time; we’d deal with Kyra later. I checked my watch: 9:30am, then checked the distance again - two hundred and fifty yards. I was getting impatient, and promptly scolded myself for it. Relax, dammit.
“Kyra, I want you to take a shot. Pick one in the front, like I said, see if you can hit that far.” I probably should have listened to that inner voice and chilled out for another fifty yards, but I figured you’re only as strong as your weakest link. And Kyra was definitely that link. She also had the smaller caliber rifle, so I was curious to see what would happen.
I heard the safety click as she carefully took aim at the crowd. I was watching the front line, which was actually more of a zigzag, connect-the-dots sort of line, and holding my breath waiting for her to shoot. Jake was watching through the binoculars when
Kyra finally pulled the trigger. A tall, lanky fella at the front of the pack crumpled to the ground in slow motion; first his head was knocked back slightly, then his knees bent, then thump, ass over teakettle.
I joined in the hooting and hollering in spite of myself. I looked over at Kyra, who was grinning big time and bumping fists with Ben, and nodded once to her. She nodded back – surprise, surprise - and I turned my attention back to the approaching army of dead.
“Alright, guys. Let’s get this party started,” I said, raising my voice over the deafening moans. And so it began. The five of us squeezed off round after round, stopping to reload after every fourth or fifth shot, depending on the rifle. As I focused in on my targets, I also watched deadheads on either side drop. So far, no one was rushing or wasting their ammo…much. Headshots, nearly every time.
After reloading for the second time, I easily dropped into The Zone, the steady and rhythmic firing from the others bolstering my own confidence, and I knew it was doing the same for them. I was also thanking God that the noise from our guns was drowning out the moaning. There is nothing more unsettling than the sound of a few hundred zombies closing in on you. My shoulder finally went numb after about the tenth shot, but I was grateful I’d thought of the towel, or I would have been out of the game after the first crack of my rifle.
“Hold your fire!” I shouted. Bodies were starting to pile up, something I definitely didn’t want to happen. The sudden halt of shots was unnerving; it sort of felt like the onset of an inner-ear infection. “Take a break, let the others come on through,” I instructed. I leaned my rifle against the roof ledge and stood up, stretched my back and legs, rolled my arm and shoulder around (which was still blessedly numb), then asked if anyone had anything to drink. Everyone else followed my lead, getting up and walking around a bit, while Ben brought his backpack over and handed out water.
“This is too easy,” Zack said as we stood around, sipping water and watching the horde advance slowly over or around their fallen brothers.
“Shhhhhh, goddammit! Don’t you know that’s what they always say in the movies just before the shit hits the fan?” Jake hissed. I had to chuckle; he was so right it was disturbing.
“Let’s just focus on what we need to do, okay? You won’t be thinking it’s easy after firing off a hundred rounds, believe me,” I said.
“Actually, Zack, in the movies, they always do things the hard way. Gotta be all dramatic. If they did things the way we have been, it wouldn’t make for a very entertaining experience now, would it?” Ben asked. Zack smiled and nodded; point well taken.
I finished off my water, saw the deadheads had made it through the jam, and motioned everyone back into position. I checked the range (they had advanced another seventy-five yards), and made sure I was fully loaded. I heard everyone else doing the same, then silence as they waited for my go-ahead.
“Let’s try to scatter it out this time, keep them moving,” I said as I lined up my next target.
“Gonna have to work harder for your meal, ya sonsabitches!” Jake yelled out just before squeezing the trigger. I chuckled, realizing we could always rely on Jake for some comedy relief, and once again the valley filled with gunfire. Slow, steady, and methodical. Scattering our targets helped this time, relieving the need to stop again except to reload or take five.
I kept watching for the end of the swarm, but it seemed to be never-ending. There was a moment of terror when I thought we wouldn’t have enough ammunition, but it was only a fleeting thought. As it turned out, just forty-five minutes after the firing began, it ended, with roughly twenty rounds of .243 shells to spare. Kyra had used hers up the quickest, her aim getting sloppy and shots flying wild towards the end. Shocking, I know.
* * *
“You know, all that noise will attract others,” Jake was saying as we searched the rooftop, gathering up all the spent shell casings so I could reload them later.
“Yeah, I know.” The thought had been on my mind since talking to Mia that morning. We knew sound attracted them, but we had also learned they seem to have a heightened sense of smell. My attention kept coming back to Mia, and how the deadheads had trailed her. Was it a blood scent they followed? If they hadn’t made visual contact back in Riverton, would they have winded her anyway? Somehow I didn’t think so. They followed because they had seen her, and once they got going, her smell, the smell of her bleeding wound, kept them coming. So now the question was: what do we do about that?
“Let’s get this stuff loaded up and get back to the house. I’ve got some ideas to run past everyone, but I’m hungry and my arm feels like it’s going to fall off,” I said, shouldering my rifle over my good arm and picking up a folded seat. The others packed up and carried the rest, following me off the roof. It was turning out to be a warm, sunny day. Indian summer, most folks call it. Zack climbed behind the wheel of my SUV and moved it around so our gear could be packed into the rear of the vehicles.
Blood was finally soaking through my jacket, so I dropped my chair next to the others while they loaded everything and got into the passenger seat. I was drained, my arm thumped with pain, so I figured I could take a break this time and let the others handle it. I had my eyes closed and my head resting back against the seat when Zack finally hopped in and got the show on the road. I opened my eyes enough to see Jake in the side mirror (Objects Are Closer Than They Appear), then reached over and called Nancy on the radio.
“Go ahead, Kasey,” she answered. I let her know all was clear and we were headed home. She said she’d have some lunch waiting. Bless that woman.
* * *
First thing I did was check on Mia. She was asleep. Second thing I did was fuss over Gus, who was unmistakably happy to see me. And the third, well, the third thing I did was allow Nancy to lecture and scold me about my shoulder. I sat at the kitchen table while she cleaned and bandaged it up, while the others sat around the dining room table and ate ham and cheese sandwiches. Shannon was eating with them, slowly and quietly, and staring ahead with unfocused eyes. I helped Nancy with the sling, and after it was back in place, I thanked her and poured myself a cup of coffee, then joined the others at the table.
“We need to do something about the trail Mia apparently left behind,” I announced. “I’ve got a crazy idea, but I want to hear any of yours first.” They continued eating, but started looking around the table at one another. Nancy pulled a chair out beside me and nibbled at a piece of ham. Jake was staring at me with his eyes narrowed. He either had an idea, or was considering homicide. Finally he spoke up.
“Well, from one hunter to another, what do you do to cover your scent in the woods,” he asked rhetorically, his mouth twitching and curving into a smile. I had to smile in return, understanding perfectly that he was having the same crazy idea as me. Ben snorted, but Zack and Kyra kept still, first looking at me, then Jake, no doubt waiting for an explanation.
“Jake, this isn’t the same as hunting, and those aren’t deer or raccoons or whatever it is you hunt,” Ben said. Jake held my gaze for a moment before breaking it and staring hard at his friend.
“Do I look like an idiot to you, ole buddy? Now, because we’ve been friends for as long as we have, I’m gonna give you a chance to apologize for that smartass remark,” he said, very smoothly and very threatening, but the smile never faded from his lips. It was quite a menacing picture, and I decided then and there that I never wanted to be on Jake’s shit list. Ben glared back, first angry, then embarrassed, before lowering his head and apologizing to his lap. Jake turned his attention back to me, his raised eyebrows asking The Question.
“Just bought a few bottles before all this happened, since hunting season’s coming up. I’m not sure if it will be enough, or if it will even work, but seems logical enough to me. Question is, where do we start spraying it?” I asked.
“Are you talking about scent-blocker?” Zack asked, finally catching up with the program. I smiled and nodded, then waited while Jake considered my questio
n.
“I’d say at the bottom of the mountain, at the end of your road. You got any rakes or hoes, not leaf rakes, but-” He looked at his grandma for help.
“Garden rakes,” she said. Jake nodded and continued. “Yeah, garden rakes? I’m thinkin’ we start at the end of the road, dig up, rake, and spread fresh dirt around, then spray. I’m afraid if we don’t, if we just start sprayin’, it won’t be enough to cover her blood trail,” he said, rubbing his chin. I thought about it and nodded. It was a good idea, maybe a waste of time, but a good idea. And I had a couple of hoes and rakes in the barn. It would take some time, but we had the rest of the day, and it was pretty out. Good weather to work in.
“Alright. Jake, you know what the general idea is, so take someone with you and get started on that. I’ll get the spray from the basement and show you where the rakes are. While you’re doing that, I’ll get to work reloading shells. I don’t think I have enough primers for what casings we brought back, but it’s better than what we have now,” I said.
“Yeah, which is next to nothing,” Kyra said. I nodded in agreement; it killed me to agree with her on anything, but she was right. If any of those dead bastards showed up now, we’d be in deep shit.
* * *
After bringing my small supply of Primos Silver XP Scent Eliminator upstairs, and taking Jake to the barn to show him the whereabouts of the garden rakes and hoes, I went back inside and went to work reloading shells. It had been a hobby for years, one I not only enjoyed, but also appreciated for its fiscally-responsible qualities. My shoulder still ached, but the half a pill of Vicodin Nancy had given me took enough of the edge off so I could work.
Nancy told me that Mia was getting worse. The infection was starting to spread through her leg, she was burning up with a fever, and now her shoulder was beginning to show signs of infection. I knew Nancy was doing all she could, and I was starting to have serious doubts about heading into Gibson, given the new developments in our enemies’ abilities. But without antibiotics, Mia would die. The question was, could we sneak in and out of Gibson undetected? And was it worth the risk?
