by Todd Sprague
John flipped his phone closed. What the hell did I get involved in? he thought to himself. Sara turned to him, a big wedge of smoked Vermont cheddar in her hand. “Everything all right, babe?”
He smiled and nodded. “Of course. It was just spam.”
* * *
John and Sara spent the rest of the morning walking through downtown Brattleboro. Sara enjoyed the little shops up and down Main Street. They ate lunch in a little deli overlooking the Connecticut River. They met up with Jesse and Jen for iced coffee after lunch. Jesse was wearing a dirty softball uniform with an unreadable company logo on it.
“How was the game?” Sara asked as they sat down at the table.
Jesse grinned. “We lost, but I hit a home run. Right out of the park. It broke a window on a car driving past.”
John laughed. “Sweet!”
Jen scowled. “Not really. We have to pay for the broken windshield.” She kicked Jesse under the table.
Sara and John both laughed as Jesse rubbed his ankle.
They chatted for a while, until Jesse and Jen had to leave to pick up their children from Jen’s parents. They said their goodbyes and John and Sara headed for home.
That night, sitting in the hot tub on the deck of the little apartment they shared, Sara turned to John. “I hope your family likes me.”
John laughed and waved steam out of his face. “Sweetheart, the whole weekend went really well. They all love you. The twins want you to come up so they can show you how to can.”
“Can?”
“Yeah, can vegetables, fruits, whatever. Though I don’t know why they don’t call it jarring instead of canning. They don’t even use cans.”
Sara didn’t know what to say to that, so she deftly changed the subject.
“I spoke to the realtor today. She has a couple of houses for us to look at tomorrow. Hopefully, we can be moved in somewhere nice before the wedding.”
John nodded as he felt Sara’s hand rest on his leg. “I love the hot tub, but this apartment is so small. I never planned on staying here very long, but then I met you, and school is so expensive...well, it’s served it’s purpose, I think.”
Sara stood up and got out.
“Hey, where are you going?” John asked as she slid the glass doors open and walked inside, her bathing suit dripping water all over the carpet.
“I’m going to put some brownies in the oven. I’ll be right back.”
John smiled, sinking back into the warm bubbles. I love my life, he thought. I am a very lucky man.
A few minutes of mixer-noise later, Sara stepped back out onto the porch and back into the hot tub. They sat together enjoying each other’s company and staring out over the lights of the little Massachusetts town. Time passed as they enjoyed the bubbling water together.
Suddenly, Sara sat upright, water splashing over the side of the tub. She looked at the glass doors at exactly the same moment the smoke detector started blaring.
“John, we’ve got a big problem!”
Chapter 11
September 25, Zed Year One
Brattleboro, Vermont
Douglas pulled John aside as folks started helping the children out of the back of the dump truck. From the corner of his eye he saw Sara and Dierdre herding children away from the truck, chatting amiably with the little ones. He pulled his attention back to Douglas, noticing the sheen of sweat on the man’s face. “Whoa, slow down, Doug, what’s wrong?
“I’ve been on the radio all day with survivors just south of us. I was trying to convince them to come join us, you know? I found a bunch in the elementary school in Guilford, a group of townspeople who got there and locked it up tight.”
“Oh yeah? Hey that’s great, Doug. Good work. We’ll go get them in the morning.”
Douglas shook his head. “That’s not it. Between those and some folks in Massachusetts, I figured out that these things, the Zeds, seem to be gathering into bigger and bigger packs. I talked to someone who saw two packs of them join together.”
John frowned. “Okay, that’s bad, but we’ll...”
Douglas grabbed John’s arm. “Shut up and let me finish! John, one of these packs went through Guilford today, just a couple of hours ago. I was on the radio with them when the pack hit. They counted thousands. Thousands!”
John looked down at Douglas’ hand on his arm. He looked back up at his cousin and raised his eyebrows.
Douglas pulled his hand away from John. “They wiped everyone out. They poured into that school and ate everyone!” He raised his voice hysterically.
“Calm down, Doug. That’s pretty awful, but that’s miles away from here.”
“No, John, I told you, I’ve been on the radio with other survivors. They’ve seen the pack, and it’s heading right for us.”
John looked over in the direction of the southern barricade, manned by the Kensingtons. Just then, the first sounds of gunfire rang out into the afternoon.
“Oh crap.”
* * *
The last of the children were chaperoned into the old hunting shack. John took Sara aside as she and Dierdre walked behind the children, followed by Margaret.
“That hunting shack is the farthest house in the valley, they’ll have to come through everyone else to get there. Stay with your mother and protect the children.”
Sara looked like she was about to argue, but caught herself as she saw her mother awkwardly carrying the rifle she’d been given. “Alright. Be careful, please. I don’t know what I’d do without you, John. I love you.”
“I promise. I love you, Sara.” He kissed her hard on the lips, before releasing her. As she ran after her mother, she yelled, “Princess! Fish!” Both dogs streaked after her, the fur on their backs bristling.
“Everyone who’s able, grab all the ammo you can carry and get into Truck’s pickup or Morgan’s. Everyone else, get inside and lock the doors.”
John watched as his mother, June, and May Mason both locked themselves inside, each holding a rifle in shaking hands. Almost everyone else in the clan, including the newest residents, jumped into the two trucks.
“Jose, grab your gear and go protect your mom and the kids.” John pointed off toward the shack in the distance. Jose looked at him, then toward the sound of gunfire. He frowned and kicked the side of a nearby car.
“COME ON!” He yelled angrily.
“God damn it, Jose, I don’t have time to argue. Take Tina and get over there.”
Jose roughly grabbed Tina by the arm and dragged her after him. She smacked him soundly in the back of the head as they walked. They could be heard arguing even over the sound of gunfire and the roar of the two pickup’s engines.
John climbed into the back of Morgan’s pickup and they headed toward the southern barricade. John flicked his radio on. “John Mason to any Kensington listening. We’re on our way.”
The radio crackled back immediately. “Jack here, we need help! More of those things than I can count over here, and no end in sight.”
The gunfire grew more frequent as the two pickup trucks arrived at the barricade. Jack Kensington, both of the Jamaican farm hands, and two older men stood atop the shipping container container that served as their only protection, firing down. Even before the engines were shut off, the moans of the undead were deafening.
John ran for the ladder and started climbing. As he reached the top, he watched in horror as a Zed leaped over the bodies of other Zeds, hit the top of the barricade, and lunged at one of the older Kensingtons with such speed that John could barely follow it. The man was down before John cleared the top, his throat ripped out, a fountain of bright red blood shooting straight up in the air. A barrage of gunfire tore the Zed apart moments later, but not before the damage had been done.
Jack yelled, “Dad!” and ran to the old man. He pushed the Zed off the side and pressed his hands into the wound, trying to staunch the bleeding. As the blood stopped flowing, John grabbed hold of Jack’s arm and pulled on him. Jack turned angrily tow
ards John, blood covering him from fingers to elbows.
John yanked Jack out of the way as the man who used to be Jack’s father sat up. Jack turned as he fell, just in time to watch John shoot the Zed.
“NO!” Jack yelled, reaching for John, but he saw that it was too late. He picked up his gun and aimed it at John. “Down!” he yelled.
John dropped to the ground as Jack fired, hitting the Zed again, finishing the job John had started. He screamed wordlessly as the Zed fell off the side.
Roger stood next to John, offering his hand. “Jesus that thing was fast. I didn’t know they could jump like that.”
“Neither did I. This is bad.”
As John stood up and looked out over the road on the other side of the barricade, a horrific sight greeted him. For as far as he could see back up the little road that led south, Zeds flowed like water towards the barricade. Most were the shambling, mutilated and decaying monsters, but many, far too many, were running and leaping over their brethren to get at the living flesh waiting on top of the thin steel shipping container. John stepped aside as more of the Mason clan climbed to the top. They spread out as best they could on the little metal roof.
Jack Kensington nodded to John. “Thanks for showing up to our little shindig. Wish you’d been a little quicker getting here.”
Suddenly the weight of the Zeds pushing against the container started moving it. It jerked a few inches, surprising everyone on top. One of the Jamaicans happened to be standing too close to the edge. As the container jerked from underneath him, he toppled over the side. The Zeds below swarmed him within seconds, drowning out his screams.
“Morgan, get that truck up here, push the barricade back!” John yelled over to Morgan. The young man jumped down off the container and ran to his truck. He started the engine, slammed the truck into gear and drove right up to the container. He set the bumper against the steel wall and gently nudged the container back into place. He set the parking break on the truck and climbed back up onto the barricade.
John fired round after round into the sea of Zeds on the road in front of him. Each shot hit a Zed, sometimes going through one and into the next. But as each Zed fell to the ground, two more shambled forward to take its place. And more disturbingly, John watched as another one of the faster Zeds jumped up onto a slower Zed and leaped for the top of the container. He fired twice, catching the Zed in the shoulder with the first shot. The second shot blew the back of its head off, showering the Zeds beneath it with bloody tissue.
John looked around him at his family and friends.
Jack Kensington stood at one end of the container, a solid, angry, heartbroken anchor against the encroaching undead. He fired rapidly, his military training guaranteeing every shot to hit his target.
Next to him, Roger fired more methodically, taking more time to hit the moving targets. Morgan stood right next to his father, a Glock pistol in each hand and a canvas backpack full of extra magazines at his feet. He fired round after round from the little black pistols at the closest Zeds. One of the faster ones tried climbing up the side of the container, using the bodies of the downed Zeds as steps. Morgan fired both pistols into its head, driving it back to the ground.
Another Kensington, John thought his name was Bruce, stood next to Morgan. He fired a bolt action rifle slowly but surely at the Zeds below. Each shot seemed to hit something. Next to him, a younger Kensington that John didn’t know fired a double barreled shotgun down into the mass. The buckshot had a great effect on those Zeds closest to the container, though it did nothing against the packed wave of the undead a little farther out.
John came next, anchoring the right side of the container. He fired from the shoulder, his MP5 on single fire, each 9mm slug more than sufficient to destroy the already decaying skulls of the Zeds. He watched more for the faster Zeds than anything else, using the green laser attached to the foregrip to help him eliminate the fastest of the threats. He changed magazines, dropping an empty one to the ground, as he looked around.
Behind John, Truck Robin reloaded his rifle, slamming a new magazine into the AR 15. He knelt down behind John and fired as quickly as he could. He looked up at John and yelled, “Yeehaw, motherfucker!”
On the other side of Truck, Jill Robin stood next to her husband, firing her rifle, a .44 magnum lever action she’d put to good use hunting in the woods with her mother, Franny. Franny stood down at the bottom of the ladder with her sister, Nancy, passing bags and packs of ammunition up to Roy Kaminski, at the top of the ladder.
Next to Roy, Douglas Gentry fired his borrowed AK 47 down into the crowd. The time he’d spent shooting as a teen came back to him quickly, and his shots grew more and more accurate as the minutes wore on. John knew there were others around down by the trucks, or on the road between the trucks and the houses, but he couldn’t take the time to look for them.
Wave after wave of Zeds broke against the barricade, scratching at the steel walls with jagged, bony fingers. Piles of bloody bodies littered the ground in front of the shipping container, forming a wall of their own. As more and more Zeds fell to gunfire, their corpses stacked up almost to the lip of the barricade. The Zeds had to climb over more and more of their fellows to even get close to the barricade, giving the defenders a little breathing room.
John stopped firing as he looked out over the crowd. He looked down the line and found Patrick reloading his 12 gauge. He ran over to him, pulling Jack with him. “We don’t have enough ammo to kill them all. Eventually, we’re going to run out, and they’re going to climb right over this tin can,” John yelled over the sound of constant gunfire.
Patrick nodded. Jack looked overwhelmed, staring out over the sea of undead.
“How long ‘til we run out?” Patrick asked.
“We can hold out for a few hours at most. I’ve got ammo back at my cabin we can send someone for, but after that, we’re screwed,” John said.
The radio crackled. A woman screamed on the other end. John pressed the button on his radio. “Who is this?”
A few tense moments later, a woman’s voice came back on the radio. “It’s Alison at the barricade, we need help! We’ve got Zeds breaking...” The radio crackled loudly and went silent.
“Fuck! Who’s at the other barricade?” John asked Patrick.
“Alison and Marta, I think.” Patrick said, worried for his granddaughter.
Two fast jumping Zeds leaped up over the wall of fallen Zeds and made it to the top of the barricade. Morgan fell backwards, knocking Roy off the wall, onto the ground near the trucks. Morgan rolled out of the way as one of the Zeds reached for him, but a wall of gunfire took the head clean off the Zed before it could bite him. The second Zed met the same fate seconds later, but not until after it had bitten the remaining Jamaican man.
The heavily muscled black man pushed the dead Zed off of him and threw it off the container. Looking down at the bloody bite mark on his arm, he screamed. Moments later, he jumped off the container, onto the pile of swarming Zeds and began firing at point blank range. He managed to clear a spot around him for a few moments, the Zeds falling to his enraged gunfire. Then, his gun clicked empty, and the Zeds charged him. He fell screaming, his arms reaching to the sky as Zed after Zed bit him, teeth and fingers savagely tearing through his muscled flesh.
Roger lifted Morgan up. “Are you bit, son? Are you bit!” he yelled, running his hands over Morgan.
“No...no, I don’t think so.” Morgan stood back up shakily and moved back into position. Father and son stood next to each other and resumed firing into the seething mass of undead. John watched for a moment, before reminding himself it was not the time to miss his own father.
John tried to reach Alison on the radio but got no response. He climbed down the ladder and ran for Truck’s big pickup. He pressed the button on his radio again. “Jose, you there?”
“Here, John. We’re already on the way.” Jose said breathlessly.
John waved to Roy to come with him. Roy brushed
the dirt off from his fall and ran after John. The women handing the ammunition up to the top of the barricade barely slowed from their task, not having heard the radio transmission.
Slamming the truck into gear, John drove the big pickup down the road towards the barricade. In the distance, he saw Jose’s truck pull out from the driveway and head toward the barricade. Just as Jose’s truck hit the road, John watched in dismay as twenty or thirty Zeds came running from the direction of the northern barricade and swarmed around it. Jose slammed into the pack of onrushing undead, crushing several beneath his flame-painted truck. The truck skidded sideways and came to a stop.
“Oh Jesus, Jose, don’t get out of the truck!” John yelled helplessly as he watched.
Moments later, John saw Jose leap out of the truck and start slashing with his sword. As John and Roy pulled up and stopped, Tina screamed. A Zed had managed to break the window on the passenger side and was pulling her through the jagged glass.
Jose heard the screaming and jumped over a Zed, slashing down with his sword as he sailed overhead, lopping off its head. He reached the passenger side of the truck at the same time John did. John raised his MP5 and fired, but not before they both heard the sickening crunch as the Zed bit through Tina’s arm. Tina screamed and thrashed violently as her body dropped to the ground. John’s shot hit the Zed on the shoulder, spinning it around. Another took its place, pushing past the wounded Zed and lunging for Tina’s writhing form. Her right arm lay twitching, clenched in the jaws of the first Zed. Her shoulder ended in a jagged stump, blood spraying everywhere.
The second Zed landed on her. Its jaws latched onto her face and chomped down. Tina’s screams were muffled by the Zed’s mouth. It bit down, the delicate bones of her young face breaking and crumbling in. Mercifully, her screams stopped as John fired again. His bullet tore the top of the Zed’s head off as Jose’s sword severed its spine. He screamed as he kicked the undead monster off the already dead Tina.
