Survive

by Todd Sprague

  They reached the barricade a few minutes later. Truck was firing slowly but accurately at targets down below. He had a big Maglite flashlight aimed at the crowd. The light clearly showed at least two dozen Zeds in various states of decomposition. Some were the faster, fresher, newer kind, jumping and climbing over the slower ones. Truck seemed to be aiming at those first. Already four Zeds lay unmoving on the road.

  We need to get some lights out here, John thought, as he aimed for one of the fast Zeds. Its head exploded like a ripe melon. John smiled a little before moving on to the next one.

  With the help of Morgan and Roger, they finally finished off the last Zed. Truck reloaded, slamming a magazine into his AR 15. He pulled the charging handle back, then released it to slam home.

  “We need some lights out here,” he said.

  John nodded. “I know. We’ll work on it tomorrow. Go get some sleep, I’ll take over until morning.”

  “Nah, I’m good. You have bigger fish to fry.”

  John shrugged and walked back to the driveway with the others. Candles were on inside the houses. The smell of fresh coffee wafted through the air as they walked up the driveway. Sara and Dierdre were standing under the carport in front of a gas camping stove. Pots of coffee were boiling on the stove. John and the others walked over to them, smiling. Dierdre made each of them take a steaming cup of coffee and sit at the table. Jose came running over, wearing nothing but a pair of faded blue jeans. He had his sword and shotgun crisscrossed over his back, and his headband firmly in place. He ran up to John, barefoot and full of energy.

  “Where are they? I can take ‘em!” he shouted.

  Dierdre shook her head and covered her eyes at the sight of her son. Sara smirked and handed the teen a cup of coffee.

  “You’re late. What would Chuck Norris say?”

  Jose looked at Sara and deadpanned, “Probably something like brains...brains!” He moaned.

  They all laughed then. There could be worse ways to start the day, John thought.

  * * *

  The morning passed quickly. Sara and Dierdre organized a big welcoming breakfast for everyone. The mother and daughter duo worked well together, and everyone enjoyed the last of the fresh eggs, mixed with powdered, along with pancakes, bacon, toast, and surprisingly good danishes they’d found mixed in with the other food from the warehouse. John and Sara also took some time to meet the newcomers, assessing their strengths and any supplies they’d brought with them. Both supplies and usable skills were in short supply among the newcomers, though.

  John also relayed the news of their arrival to the Kensingtons and filled them in on the morning’s attack. He learned there had been a smaller attack at the other barricade, but the Kensingtons had repelled the Zeds by stabbing them in the head with spikes affixed to long poles, thus conserving ammunition. John vowed to look into this method in the future.

  Jack Kensington also offered to take a couple of the newcomers if they agreed to earn their keep. The two Jamaican farmhands readily agreed and set off on foot.

  Patrick Mason was organizing the building of the fence. John found him writing down measurements on an old notepad.

  “We’ve got plenty of fence to go around all of the houses including the old hunting shack. They even brought back a good solid gate.” Patrick said, continuing to jot down notes.

  “That’s great, but what about bracing them? We saw the Zeds knock down a fence like this through sheer numbers.”

  “Well, we could cut some good sized logs, about fourteen feet long, sink them into the ground as braces every twelve feet or so. Nothing is going to knock that down.”

  “Sounds good to me. What do we need to make that happen?” John asked.

  “Manpower. We’ve got saws, digging equipment, and plenty of material. We just need more people or this is going take a long time.”

  “I know. And I think that, even with the new people Sara’s brother brought in, we have enough supplies to sustain everyone for a few months. We could take a few more people, if we found them.”

  “John, we really need more hands out here. Someone has to watch the barricade all the time. That limits how many people can work on the fence. Kurt is down for the count for a while. You have Doug working the radio.”

  John looked over towards the radio shack. “Yeah, but that may be the key to getting more people. If he can find any survivors within driving distance, we can go get them with the dump truck.”

  Patrick nodded. “That’s a right good idea. Well, you get to it. I’m going to get this started.”

  * * *

  John was sitting at a picnic table under the carport looking at the report Douglas had written for him when Jose walked up carrying a big piece of plastic. He sat down across from John and laid the plastic on the table between them. Jose was still wearing his crossed sword and shotgun ensemble, though he now wore combat boots and a white tank top as well as the strategically torn blue jeans. John laid the report down and looked at the plastic.

  “Looks like plastic,” John said, looking back up at Jose.

  “It is plastic.”

  “Why am I looking at plastic?”

  “Because, it’s going to save your life, dude.”

  “What are you talking about?” John looked skeptically at Jose.

  Jose turned the plastic around and pointed at a scuffed spot on it. John looked closer and saw a crescent row of gouges in the ¼ inch thick piece of rough material.

  “Is that a bite mark?”

  Jose grinned like a madman. “Yes! It’s a zombie...I mean a Zed bite.”

  John looked at Jose for a moment, expectantly. “Well, go on.”

  “On our way here we saw a flashlight on top of a building. It was signaling S.O.S. In Morse code. I recognized it from the History Channel, right? So we stopped. It was a factory that made plastic panels for something, I don’t know what. It was a woman on the roof, a survivor. And while we were getting her down, a Zed came at us. I picked one of these panels up and shoved it at the Zed. It bit it but couldn’t get through. So after I stabbed it through the eye with my katana, I heard...I mean I got an idea. I grabbed a bunch of the plastic sheets and threw them in the back of my truck.”

  John picked up the plastic and flipped it over. The other side showed a similar set of bite marks. They hadn’t come anywhere close to penetrating, though.

  “So, what are you suggesting?”

  “Armor, dude!” Jose sat back with a satisfied grin.

  Jose flipped the plastic back onto the table and raised his eyebrows. “What?”

  “Armor! We make armor out of the plastic.”

  “What are you talking about? Did you sleep on your brain last night?”

  “No, seriously, they can’t bite through it. You’d be totally safe,” Jose said defensively.

  “How would you make armor out of plastic?” John asked, trying not to offend Jose.

  “Heat it up, bend it into whatever shape you need, then strap it on with duct tape!”

  John sat for a minute, trying to decide what to say to his young brother-in-law.

  “Alright, let’s say for a minute that we make this armor. What do we do with it?”

  “Duh. Kill Zeds.” Jose scratched his head.

  “Maybe...maybe we can make some kind of shield or something. I don’t see how we could make armor out of plastic and duct tape.”

  Jose frowned. “That might work too, but it’s supposed to be armor. You’d be totally safe from their bites.”

  John sighed. “You’re right, Jose. Look, we have a lot to do today. Let me think about it, okay? It’s a good idea.”

  Jose smiled at the praise. He stood up. “Sick! Alright, I gotta find my woman. Catch you later, man.”

  As he walked away, John picked up the report again, pushing the plastic armor idea to the back of his mind. Douglas had put together a handwritten report showing at least thirty groups of survivors within a hundred square miles. Two groups were within twenty miles o
f them. One of those groups consisted of several young children and a school nurse who had managed to lock themselves into an old fallout shelter under the school. They’d found a radio down there and reached out. John sighed as he read the rest of the assessment. The students had no food and very little water. He read the rest of the report. The last part was of special interest.

  Alaska reports they have isolated all cases of what we would call Zed Infection and are a safe haven. They have declared themselves independent and are offering safe haven for anyone who can reach them and pay an immigration fee. Also, a survivor in Concord, New Hampshire claims to have been in a shelter with several other survivors when a group of armed men in camouflage attacked them. They demanded information and supplies. They executed most of the survivors before leaving.

  John pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to get a handle on everything he’d learned. He was nursing a headache when Sara came up to him, Fish and Princess happily following along. Fish attempted to wag his nonexistent tail when he saw John, but only succeeded in shaking all over. Thwarted, he flopped down on the grass and sighed. Princess mimicked him exactly.

  “Why the long face, sweetheart? I mean, other than the end of the world and the living dead eating everyone around us,” Sara said, slipping her arm around John as she sat down next to him.

  “Oh you mean besides no internet, no more Whoppers, no more new Mustangs, no more Coca Cola?” John asked, smiling.

  “Yeah, that’s what I mean. Who needs Mustangs, anyway?” Her family, or parts of it, arriving had put a new glow on her face that John hadn’t seen for a long time.

  “Well, Patrick says we need more people to work on the fence. Jose wants to make plastic armor. We need medicine at some point, and we don’t know how long we’re going to have to be here like this, and oh yeah, there’s a bunch of school kids locked in a fallout shelter nearby dying of hunger.”

  Sara absorbed it all silently. She held John tighter. “That’s a lot to take on, John. That isn’t all your responsibility.”

  “If I don’t take it on, who will? People seem to be listening to me here. Maybe we can make it until they find a cure or something. But until then, we have to accept the horror of the absurd and survive. But you know damn well I can’t leave kids to die out there.”

  “Of course you can’t. So what are you going to do? What are we going to do?”

  “I’m going to go get them. I’ll take the dump truck and a couple of volunteers. You’re going to stay here and keep morale up. Teach the younger people those campfire songs you tried to teach me.”

  “Just like that? You can leave just like that?” Sara asked.

  “I don’t know, Sara. I could make a plan, but it would probably just be a waste of time.” John laughed.

  “Cut it out. This is serious,” Sara said, her voice cold. “You don’t have to go, John. You could tell someone to go.”

  “You know I can’t do that, Sara.” He wrapped his worried wife in his arms.

  “You could, but I know you won’t. I’m going with you.”

  “I’d really rather you didn’t. Not this time. There’s just so much to do here, and you’re the person I trust the most in this whole dying world.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Other than the songs? Well, we need to get the new people settled somewhere, and hopefully there will be a bunch of kids that need a place to sleep too. We’ve got the old hunting shack that needs to be opened up and cleaned out. The roof is solid, it just needs some cleaning.”

  Sara thought for a moment.

  “Maybe we could turn it into a dormitory of sorts. Maybe Mom could do something with it. She needs something to do with her time, or she’ll go crazy. She hasn’t said anything and I’m not going to bring it up, but I know she’s been thinking about my dad.”

  John nodded. “That’s a great idea! About the dorm, I mean. Can you take care of it? If you need anything...”

  “I can handle it, John. Don’t worry. But I’m not happy about you going.”

  “I know, Sara. I’m sorry, but I have to.” He pulled Sara against him and kissed her hard on the lips. No way can I die if this is what I’d be missing, he thought.

  * * *

  “I need three volunteers to go rescue some school kids and their nurse from starvation and the Zeds.” John stood on top of the dump truck addressing the Mason clan and their new guests after saying his see-you-laters with Sara.

  Several hands went up. John looked down at the crowd.

  “Not this time, Jose. You already did your part.”

  Jose put his hand down reluctantly. John pointed to Roger, Truck, and Stanley, a newcomer with a last name John couldn’t remember. He was a tall fellow with gangly arms and legs, but he claimed to know his way around a rifle. They grabbed backpacks filled with ammunition and sandwiches Sara had given them and climbed up into the dump truck.

  Roger drove the big truck out to the barricade. Marta and Alison were standing on top of the container taking their turn at watch. They climbed down as the truck approached, started the tractor, and pushed the container aside. The big truck drove past the barricade. The large container slid into place as soon as they cleared the area.

  The four men drove twenty-three miles through town, up route 5, to Townshend, Vermont. Along the way they ran over several Zeds and pushed a number of cars out of the road. At one point they saw a huge pack of Zeds off in the distance surrounding a barn. Frantic mooing and at least one barking dog could be heard coming from inside the big red building. Roger looked questioningly at John, but he shook his head and indicated they should continue.

  They pulled into the parking lot of the elementary school at 3:15 in the afternoon. Cars sat in the parking lot. A big yellow bus had been driven into the wall of the school, causing some of the masonry to crumble around the nose of the bus. At least a dozen Zeds wandered the parking lot. John could see slow, shambling movement through the big windows of the school.

  Roger pulled the dump truck as close to the main entrance of the school as he could get. He climbed up onto the roof of the truck and began firing at the Zeds in the parking lot. He took a deep breath between each shot, lined up his target, and squeezed the trigger. Each shot dropped a Zed to the pavement.

  John, Truck, and Stanley entered the school with Truck in the lead, John in the middle, and Stanley bringing up the rear. The interior of the school lay in shadows as the trio walked through the halls, weapons held in front of them. Truck flicked on his Maglite as he walked.

  Suddenly a Zed dressed in a white food service uniform jumped out of an open doorway and reached for Truck. The creature grabbed Truck in its dead fingers and opened its jaws, lunging for Truck’s neck. Truck raised his left arm to block the creature as he yelled. Just as the Zed’s jaws were about to snap closed on Truck’s arm, John brought his MP5 up and pulled the trigger. A quick three round burst blew the Zed’s head clean off moments before its fangs would have ripped into Truck’s arm. Instead, blood and brain matter splattered all over the wall behind the Zed, a few splatters hitting Truck in the face. The Zed’s body dropped like a stone.

  Truck stood motionless for a moment, then lifted his hand up to his face. As he felt the wetness there, he dropped his gun and Maglite and ripped his shirt off. He began wiping his face frantically with the shirt.

  “Oh god, get it off me!” he yelled.

  John grabbed Truck and took the shirt from him. “Hold still, I’ll get it.”

  Truck calmed himself while John finished wiping the blood splatters off his cousin’s face. When he was done, he dropped the shirt onto the floor.

  “All done. Let’s go.”

  “Are you sure? Did you get it all? Oh Jesus, I don’t want to turn into one of those things!” Truck said, verging on hysteria.

  “Relax, Truck. I got it. You’re going to be fine. Besides, we don’t know if it comes from the blood or not.”

  “I don’t want to be the first one to find out,
either!” Truck’s hands trembled as he picked up his rifle and flashlight. John pushed past him and took the lead, allowing Truck to take the more protected middle position.

  They walked until they found a door marked BASEMENT. They pushed the door open as they heard more shots from outside. The door opened onto a stairwell leading down into darkness.

  As they reached the bottom they faced another door. This one had the old fallout shelter symbol on it. John pushed the door, but it wouldn’t budge.

  “It’s locked from the other side.” John said. He pointed to Stanley to watch the stairs. Then he knocked on the door several times.

  A female voice answered, saying “Hello? Is anyone there?”

  “We’re here, we’ve come to get you out of here.” John said as loudly as he dared, hoping not to attract any more Zeds to their position.

  The door rattled for a moment before slowly opening outward. John stood facing an older woman wearing a light blue nurses uniform. She had a name tag that proclaimed her as Margaret, R.N.

  “Are you the police?” she asked.

  “No ma’am, but we’re as close as you’re going to get. We’re here to rescue you. We have a safe place to take you.”

  “Safe? What is going on out there?” Margaret asked as she peered at the men holding guns in her school.

  “I promise we’ll fill you in later, but we have to get out of here. Our radioman heard you had children in here.”

  Margaret motioned for John to come into the room. As he entered, the red of the emergency lights lit up a room filled with children. John blinked in astonishment. “How many children are in here with you?”

  “Thirty one. I tried to help the rest but...” Margaret broke down, holding her head in her hands.

  John took her arm and started guiding her toward the door. “It’s ok. You did great. Let’s get you all out of here, though. Trust me, you’ll be much safer where we’re going.”

  Margaret looked at John, trying to judge whether or not she could trust her children with him. John saw this in the look of her eye, and knew he needed to tip the balance in his favor.