by Todd Sprague
Patrick came stumbling out of his back door, shotgun held before him. “What’s all that ruckus?” He came up short as he saw Princess staring down the Zed in his back yard.
John drew his Sig at the same time Sara pulled her Beretta. They fired as Sara screamed, “Princess!”
Princess backed toward Sara, baring her teeth, the hair on her back standing straight up. The Zed staggered under the onslaught, bullets tearing into its withering flesh. It went down on one knee, before Patrick’s shotgun blasted its head into a fine red mist. The body fell backward without a sound.
Princess ran over to the fallen Zed and bit it hard, right on its shoe.
John walked up and ruffled the dog’s ears. “Good girl.”
* * *
“Okay, we have a problem.” John shouted over the noise. The entire clan had turned out into Patrick’s backyard. Even June came out, looking slightly better than she had the night before. They stood around the decaying body of the Zed.
“You don’t say!” Kelly, wearing a bright red Hollister shirt, quipped. Uneasy chuckles broke some of the tension.
“Okay, we have even more problems, then.” John nodded to Kelly. He turned back to the rest of the group. “This one must have wandered over the mountain, through the woods. I didn’t think that would be a problem, but we don’t want even the stragglers hanging out in our back yard.”
“What do you want to do about it?” Patrick said as he cleaned his shotgun on the little picnic table next to his back door.
“Well, first off, I don’t think anyone should be outside without a gun or at least an armed escort. We took in quite a few yesterday, so I want everyone who doesn’t have a firearm to come up to the cabin after this and I’ll get you outfitted with something,” John paused before continuing. “Since we can’t fence off the whole valley, I think we should at least fence off the houses, the cabin, and that little hunting shack.”
Everyone seemed to speak at once, drowning out John’s words, until a single shot rang out in the air. Douglas stood, rifle in hand, a wisp of smoke snaking up from the barrel. “Let him talk!”
John stared for a moment at Douglas, before nodding. “There is a fencing company less than 15 miles from here, on route 5. We can take the dump truck down, load it up with fencing, and bring it back. We can make more than one trip if we need to. I think we could start with a solid chain link, then reinforce it with lumber or cut logs. Hell, we could dig a ditch and line it with sharpened stakes for all I care. But we need something.”
More questions followed, most wondering how they would be able to undertake such a large task while still managing to survive.
“We’ll tell the neighbors what we’re doing and why, and suggest they do the same. I’ll take volunteers, we’ll go get the fencing this morning. I think we should also unload the trailer and get what we can into basements and out of the sunlight. Also, Sara is organizing a little shindig for tonight, so she could use some help.”
“Oh, one more thing,” John looked at the assembled people. “I’m going to be passing out guns and weapons to everyone who can handle one. We’ll be practicing on the scarecrow in the back field, so don’t be alarmed if you hear shots coming from that direction.”
John noticed everyone staring at him expectantly, waiting for him to go on. Patrick, the eldest Mason there, spoke up. “Well, what do you want us to do, John?”
Oh crap, John thought to himself. They really do think I’m in charge!
* * *
Douglas walked over to John as the rest of the crowd thinned out. John had issued some suggestions, organized the run to the fence company, supervised the unloading of the truck, and a few other things.
“Hey, man, about yesterday,” Douglas began, shifting nervously on his feet. His eyes were both bruised, giving him a slightly raccoon-like look.
“Yeah, about yesterday,” John said, scratching his head.
“Look, I’m sorry. I just didn’t think...I mean, I just couldn’t...” He stopped himself, then started over. “I don’t understand how you’ve managed to just accept everything so easily.”
“What choice do we have? Would you rather be one of them?” He nodded to the corpse on the ground.
“Of course not, but it’s just crazy. It’s all so fucking crazy.”
“Yeah, I know. Look, we can both put yesterday behind us, or we can wait until Wall Street comes back and you can buy me ten times over.”
“Somehow I don’t think that’s going to happen.”
They stood there in silence for a moment. John looked at Douglas. “Doug, I’ve got a project for you, if you want it. You’re probably the only one here who can do it right.”
Douglas looked skeptical. “Oh yeah?”
A couple of hours later, they stood in the little garden shed behind John’s cabin. They’d spent the better part of those two hours moving the radio from the cabin basement out to the shed. They’d also moved the batteries and a chair, and emptied the shed of everything else. John finished tacking up a map of the United States on the wall over the small table upon which sat the short wave radio.
“What we need is information. We’re still getting some stuff on FM, but it’s mostly looping feeds of old news. We need up to date stuff.” He showed Douglas the notepad where he’d written the news from his last attempt.
“I don’t know anything about this. Why did you want me to do this?” Douglas began fiddling with dials on the short wave set.
“Because you can take the data you get and analyze it. You can organize it, prioritize it, and give us a better picture of what’s going on than I can. And we need information more than anything else right now.” John handed Douglas a headset.
Douglas looked at it for a minute, then up to the map on the wall. He nodded, more to himself than to John. “Alright. Yeah. I can do that.”
John grinned, clapping Douglas on the back. “Good! Thanks.”
* * *
As John walked back down the driveway, Sara came up to him. He smiled at her. “How’s it going, hot stuff?”
She giggled at him, the pistol on her hip not detracting at all from the very feminine sound. “Pretty good. We’re moving some tables out under the carport, and most of the food has been unloaded from the trailer. We’re going to try communal dining, at least for a little while, since all the food is being shared anyway.”
“Oh...I don’t know, sounds like communism to me!” He joked.
She stopped in the middle of the driveway and deadpanned, “You know too much, Comrade.”
He shook his head at her. “You’re too good for me, you know that?”
“Oh I know, but my options have suddenly become very limited, and I’m not into zombiephilia. Zedophilia? Though I saw a movie once, by accident,” She scratched her head, a puzzled expression on her face as she started to recount the film.
“Ick. Okay, moving right along,” He continued walking until Morgan and Truck came around the side of Patrick’s house. Truck brushed his hands off on his jeans. “Zed’s buried. We’re going to take the dump truck and go get that fencing.”
“Okay, let me grab my gear and we’ll head out.”
“Nah, John. You don’t have to go on this run. Besides, what do you know about fences?” Truck grinned. “You said you wanted to teach some people how to shoot the new guns and whatnot, so do that. We’ll handle the heavy lifting.”
John frowned. “I don’t like sending you out there without me. One mistake is all it takes.”
“We know that. Don’t worry, we’ll get what we need and get back here. We might go see if we can find a bucket loader somewhere too, to dig that ditch with the spikes in it you talked about.”
“I was just kidding about the ditch!” John said, shaking his head. “You guys take me way too seriously.”
Truck laughed as he and Morgan headed off to get their gear.
“Those two are way too excited to be heading out there like this. I’m worried.” John said, watching t
hem walk away.
“You can’t follow them around everywhere. We all have to adjust to the way things are now.”
John nodded silently, still frowning. He stood there watching until Truck, Morgan, and Kurt Crawford had driven away in the big dump truck several minutes later.
Sara kissed John and left him to tend to the party preparations. John spent some time laying out all of the weapons they’d brought back the day before. He ran through everyone in his mind, and assigned a rifle or pistol to everyone in the compound who didn’t already have something adequate. He put those together with ammunition and spare magazines. He then brought the bundles to each person as he found them, and taught each person there how to operate their gun. He made sure everyone shot at a makeshift target in the field behind Patrick Mason’s house until he thought they were competent, if not proficient.
By the time he was satisfied that he had given everyone at least a fighting chance, he decided to head up to the southern barricade, the one manned by the neighboring family, the Kensingtons. He slung his MP5 over his shoulder and started walking.
When he arrived, he saw a young man with close cropped hair, wearing blue jeans and a t-shirt bearing the U.S.M.C. logo standing on top of the barrier with a rifle slung across his back. The man turned to him as he approached. John noticed the dark circles under the man’s eyes.
“You must be Jack?” John asked as he climbed up onto the barricade. He offered his hand.
“That’s me.” Jack took John’s hand in his and gave it a quick pump.
“I’m John Mason. I just wanted to see how you were doing over here. Uncle Patrick told you about our fence idea?”
“Yeah, it sounds like a good one. We might do something similar, maybe with logs or bricks or something.”
“Good. If you don’t mind my asking, how are you folks set for supplies? Food and weapons?”
“We’re good, we have food for a few months, and a few rifles and pistols. Ammo might be a problem if we get into it, though. I was thinking we might make a run into town soon.”
John filled Jack in on his reasoning for avoiding the downtown area. Jack agreed with him, and they spent some time discussing various places to get supplies. Jack scratched his head, looking at John.
“TV’s dead, nothing on it but recorded crap. We can’t get any news on the radio either. Do you know anything about what’s going on out there?”
“We’re working on it. I’ve got a short wave radio and a man trying to gather information. I also spent some time on it myself. There are other people out there just like us making it. So will we.”
Jack let out a sigh, “That’s really good to hear, man. I don’t know why the military isn’t kicking ass yet.”
“Probably because they didn’t believe what was happening. We kept hearing back at the beginning how they were evacuating wounded to populated areas. Probably how it spread so fast.”
“Fucking idiots!” Jack stared out over the little road leading off into the forest.
“You got that right. Too worried about telling people what to do, how to live, what to think. When it finally came down to it, they just couldn’t accept that sometimes bad shit happens and you do what you have to do. Probably worried about offending the undead, or getting sued by some Zed lawyer.”
They shared a quick laugh over that. “We’re having a little party tonight. My wife is putting it together, and she sure can cook. We want you folks to come over. It’ll be good for everyone.”
Jack smiled. “Sounds good to me. We’ll be there.”
They shook hands again, and Jack headed back home.
* * *
Around 6:30 p.m., John heard the roar of the tractor down at the barricade along with the honking of the big dump truck’s horn. He trotted down to the end of the driveway and arrived just as the large truck pulled in. The back of the truck was piled high with rolls of chain link and other things. Big bundles of fence were hanging from the sides and the back, and a flatbed trailer piled high with still more fencing attached to the back of the truck.
Morgan jumped out of the driver’s side and ran around to the passenger side, opening the door. “Give me a hand,” he yelled to John.
John’s heart sank.
Truck jumped out, pulling Kurt gently down behind him. A bloody cloth was wrapped around Kurt’s upper left thigh. He reached the ground, Truck and Morgan carrying him over to the lawn and setting him down on the soft green grass. John eyed the wounded leg with a sinking feeling. He slid the MP5 off from his shoulder, leaving it pointed at the ground. Kurt looked up as he saw the weapon, his eyes widening.
Morgan saw the look. “Whoa, John, hold up. It’s not a bite. He fell off the truck when we were loading it. It’s broken.”
John sighed in relief and laid his weapon on the ground, leaning down to look at the wounded area. He peeled the wrapping away and grimaced. The bone had broken and a jagged piece of it had punctured the skin.
“Alright, just sit tight, Kurt. My mom used to be a nurse. I’ll be right back.” He took off running towards his mother’s house. A few minutes later he led June back to the trio. She bent down and looked at him with a shrewd eye. Kurt eyed her skeptically.
June nodded to John. “Get him inside. You come too. You’ll have to hold him down.”
Kurt paled at the statement but said nothing. The slight graying at his temples seemed out of place on the middle aged man. Bet he’s going to get a few more gray hairs out of this, John thought to himself as they carried Kurt into Patrick’s house and laid him down on the guest bed he and Franny had been using. She arrived a few moments later, saw what had happened, and promptly smacked Kurt on the back of the head. Kurt grinned and shrugged.
June ordered sheets, towels, sticks, and rope, along with whiskey. John smiled at his mother’s use of the unorthodox medicine despite her strict religion. She told Kurt to take a long swig of the drink, before pouring a generous splash onto the wound itself. June patted the wound dry and nodded to John and Truck, each standing on either side of the bed. She motioned for Truck to hold Kurt’s other leg down. When John and Morgan each had a good grip on Kurt, the elderly nurse pulled his leg straight down, drawing the jagged bone back into the leg.
Kurt screamed for all he was worth and struggled violently. The men managed to hold him reasonably still as June pressed her fingers into his thigh, feeling the bone underneath. She pulled his leg again, her seemingly frail form holding more strength than anyone thought.
Kurt kept screaming until finally he passed out. Franny said, “Keep going,” and June did.
Finally she seemed satisfied with the leg and began wrapping it in sheets. Then she had John make a splint out of the rest of the supplies, and helped him put the splint on. They tightened it in place. With Kurt still out cold, they left him and Franny alone.
“Do you have any antibiotics, John?” June asked him, slumping down into a chair in the living room.
“I have some up in my first aid bag, but I don’t know if it’s enough for something like this.”
“Well, go get them, we’ll have to give it a try. We’re going to need more, though. He won’t be the only one to get hurt, you know,” June said tiredly.
“I know. I hadn’t really thought about it.” John got up and left to get the antibiotics. Morgan followed him.
“John, there’s something you should know.”
John kept walking but turned to Morgan. “What’s that?”
“It’s getting worse out there. We saw huge packs of those things all hunting together. They weren’t just looking for people, either. We saw them take down a couple of dogs and a cow.”
“A cow?”
“Yeah. We passed a field and saw a pack of them chase a cow down. They just piled onto it, biting and ripping at it until it fell. And they’re all over the place. We got lucky, the fence company had a pretty good fence around it so we were safe while we loaded up, but there were thousands of them out there. No kidding.”
&
nbsp; “Jesus... thanks Morgan. You guys did good out there today.”
“Thanks, boss.” Morgan said, running back to the driveway.
“Hey, I’m not your boss!” John yelled to Morgan as he ran off. Morgan just waved a hand over his shoulder and kept going.
Later, after he’d delivered his medicinal burden to his mother, John stood outside looking up at the partially unloaded dump truck. Patrick took his work gloves off and came over to John.
“Looks like a good haul. I think we have enough here to go around the perimeter twice. It’s good stuff, too. Ten feet high. We can sink a foot into the ground and it’ll still be tall enough. They got a good amount of barbed wire too, for the top. It’s not razor wire but still, if anything makes it that far they should get tangled up in it. At least it’ll slow them down.” Patrick said grinning.
“At the warehouse, there were so many of them they knocked a fence like that over through sheer numbers.” John said, frowning at the memory.
“Yeah, I heard. We’ll shore it up with braces every ten feet or so. We’ll cut some logs for reinforcement. We can dig a ditch on the outside to make it even harder to get at the fence later.” Patrick seemed about to burst with some secret he had.
“Alright, what is it, Uncle Patrick?” John finally asked, giving in.
“Well, we have enough tree stands from hunting, we can put them up around the compound and have guard towers. Sort of.”
John rolled his eyes but laughed. “Good thinking!”
The unloading continued. John helped for awhile until Sara came running up to him. “Hey, babe, what’s up?” John asked, brushing his hands off on his pants.
