I raced down to the basement and opened the safe. It was loaded with cases of .223 ammo and 4 Bushmaster M-4 carbines, two with scopes and two with laser sights. At least twenty magazines for each. Four 1911 .45s, two Kimbers and two Colts, with holsters, more cases of ammo and at least ten magazines each. Four Ithaca Model 37 defense 12 gauge pumps, with slings and more cases of ammo. Ten bricks of .22 long rifle. Tactical vests. I locked it back up and looked forward to coming back with some help to empty it out.
On the way out, I noticed a stack of MRE cases, used to feed the military. Also, even more water in large plastic bags and crates of other supplies. This was a real bonanza.
When I got back upstairs, I heard someone on the front steps. I slowly peeked out and I was staring into the face of a smallish zombie with only one eye. The other was hanging down his cheek by the optic nerve. Its nose was twitching and it was clearly concentrating on something. It was impossible to tell if it had seen me. I saw at least another twenty zombies on the front lawn and more on the street heading towards the house. I froze and stayed silent. The zombies kept coming. I heard a new sound from upstairs. It sounded like a cat.
Great, I thought. They like cats, too, and this one is going to get me killed. The zombies started pounding on the door and pushing on it. They couldn’t open it yet, because Jared’s huge body was hard to move, but it wouldn’t be long.
I decided to try Bill’s 12 gauge and stuck the barrel out of the open door and opened up. It was loaded with slugs and they were effective at close range but I only had five shots. I killed five, but attracted ten more. Now there were at least thirty on the lawn and headed for the steps.
Now I was down to the handguns, the .45 and the .38. Or was I? I remembered the full gun safe downstairs. But did I have time to get down there before they got in the door? I decided to use all of my handgun ammo to slow them down, except for one which I’d save for myself. Once I used up my ammo, I’d run downstairs, load up some weapons, and figure out my next step. Hopefully Dave had another way out.
I gave Sean a quick call and told him to alert everyone. He said they’d shot five so far that day. I told him a bunch might be coming and to be ready. I did not tell him about Bill, because I wanted to tell Mary myself. I ordered him to stay put and keep everyone in the house. He seemed to want to tell me more, but I told him I had to go.
Then, I took the .38 and shot five zombies at point blank range. I grabbed the .45 and blasted another eight, quickly reloaded and blasted another six or so. More and more were coming, and I was in trouble. I was actually getting tired from running around and shooting. I wondered if it would ever end.
They were slowed down by the pile of dead ones, but they gradually climbed over them and put more pressure on the top of the door. A few grabbed the broken window and gashed their fingers on it. They severed their fingers right off, and it didn't slow them a bit. Dark green ichor oozed from the stumps. It stank worse than anything I’d ever smelled. Others started to break through the other window. It’s not like they tried to break the window, but their movements and weight made it inevitable.
I pushed back on the door while I reloaded the 12 and the .38, emptied both into the faces of the zombies seeking entry, and ran downstairs, with only my .45 and two magazines, bolting the door behind me.
In my stressed state (I guess you could call it panic) I forgot the combination to the safe. I could hear the zombies slobbering and moaning at the top of the stairs. I figured that some of them probably went upstairs after the cat, which would help a bit. Then I saw the stupid thing at my feet. In honor of Steve Martin I quickly named it “Shithead” and directed a kick at it. It skittered away but came back purring. I decided to grab it for Bobbie if I lived. I heard the door crack and, rather than try another combination, I simply pulled on the safe door. I had forgotten to bolt it and it opened right up.
I grabbed an M-4, turned on the red dot, and slapped a magazine in it. I had shot a friend’s M-4 but this one seemed to have an extra switch on it. I turned the safety off, aimed and fired.
“Dave, you crazy bastard,” I exclaimed, “this is fully automatic. You are in big trouble.” The first magazine went in about two seconds. The local gendarmes would not be happy, but they did not seem to be present except in zombie form.
I wasn't ready for full auto so I aimed poorly but did succeed in blasting the basement steps apart. The first zombies through the door dropped ten feet onto the basement slab and busted open like bags of garbage dropped off a truck. They were still trying to get me, but were quickly covered by the other zombies who dropped on them so they couldn’t move.
I slapped in another mag and moved the switch to three round bursts. Effective, since there was no time to aim and it was pretty dark down there. I simply fired at the doorway, then checked the pile for movement towards me and finished any that were moving. The firepower had evened things up a bit, and at some point, about five magazines in, the zombies stopped coming. I checked my watch and it was about 4:00 p.m.
I called Sean on the radio to check in. He was crying. “They got Molly, Dad. One bit her and she’s bleeding. Mom shot it but she says Molly may turn into a zombie so we have to leave her outside. More zombies keep coming because of the noise.”
“See if Mom will let Molly into the garage. Maybe that’ll help. I’ll be home as soon as I can. Also, tell Mom to give Steve, Julie, and Jake guns. We’re going to need them.”
“Okay Dad. When will you and Bill be back?”
“Probably about ten minutes, buddy. Tell Mike not to shoot; I may be on foot.”
“Roger, Dad. Over and out.”
Now I had to get out of Dave’s basement. It was a deep one, at least ten feet, and I’d destroyed the stairs. Also, I was not going to climb up the dead zombies since I could hear those on the bottom still biting, chewing, and moaning. We’d need to be careful when we came back. Fortunately, the lights still worked so I turned them on.
I started surveying the entire perimeter of the basement. There were no windows and no bulkhead. Finally, I noticed that one of the walls was block, not concrete. It didn’t seem to have a door, but there was a big heavy bookshelf in front of it. I pushed on the right side and it didn’t budge. I tried to pull it away from the front; it was too heavy. My last try was from the left and it rolled easily away. Behind it was a door with an LED combination lock on it. I guessed it had the same combination as the safe, which I now remembered.
I punched in the numbers and the lock clicked. The door opened in. Inside was a small room with more supplies, a few bunks, a huge water tank, and a big shortwave radio on a desk. Dave was clearly a survival freak in addition to being a Jesus freak. I could have kissed him!
Under the desk was a crate of grenades; I guess that was Dave’s exit plan. Under the grenades was a trap door. I pulled it open and smelled fresh air. This was the way out!
Before I left, I stowed the Mini, the 12, and the .38 in the safe. I grabbed a tactical vest and loaded it up with ten magazines and three grenades. I reloaded my .45 mags, stuck them in my vest, took “my” M-4, and headed out. At the last minute, I stuffed Shithead in a pillow case and threw it over my shoulder. I climbed down the ladder about ten feet, then down a tunnel about thirty paces long, then up to a trap door with the same combination. Dave was in construction and clearly a few articles had gone missing from some of his jobs.
I opened the door up and I was in Dave’s shed. This guy was loaded. He had jet skis, a big riding lawnmower, and all kinds of power tools in there. He also had, under a tarp, a dirt bike. Hanging from the roof were 4 nice mountain bikes. I checked the back yard through the shed window and saw that the front yard and the street were full of zombies. I vowed to check his house carefully for a silencer on my next trip because that would come in handy.
I was literally too tired to get in another one-sided firefight. I knew that the zombies would end up at my house if I did not stop them so I decided to try to draw them off. I loaded two 5 gallon gas cans ont
o the riding mower and tied my grenades to it with zip strips. I figured the zombies would chase it and ultimately one would pull a cord and blow the whole thing up, hopefully taking a bunch of zombies with it. I lined the mower up with the door and prepared to start it. I silently opened the door and lined up my shot. It was perfect. The yard led in a straight shot out onto the street, headed away from my house and down past the Dillons. If it went right, it would even roll out onto Chestnut before they caught up to it.
Dave’s mower started immediately. He had the best stuff. A few Zs (that’s what I had started to call them) started my way, but I put the mower into low gear and launched it. I decided to engage the mower deck to slow it down and also to see if I could get a few that way.
My scheme worked perfectly. In low, the mower moved at about 5 miles per hour, a bit faster than a quick walk. It made a ton of noise. All of the zombies had to hurry up to catch it, and the ones close to it couldn’t quite grab it. They followed it down my street, across the corner of the Dillon’s lawn, and out to Chestnut Street, where it ran into a parked car and stopped. The first Z who arrived got his leg caught in the mower deck and it sucked him in and spat him out in chunks. The next Zs just gathered around. Finally, one of the grenades finally worked loose and there were a bunch of explosions. I think the first was the grenade, followed by the gas cans, then the mower gas tank, then the car’s gas tank. About a hundred zombies were blown to pieces, and those that weren’t blown up were quickly burned. They burned really well.
I hopped onto Dave’s mountain bike and pedaled silently home to a huge problem.
Mike was at the end of the driveway, sobbing. “Molly bit Mom and she says she might become a zombie.”
“Where is she?”
“She’s in the garage. She took her gun with one bullet. She says she’ll shoot herself if she starts to turn. She locked Molly in the truck. She says she won’t talk to anyone except you.”
I ran to the garage, climbed over the fence and into the rear door. It was open. Kate was sitting in an Adirondack chair, reading a paperback, and drinking a cold beer. A half-empty cooler was at her feet along with a few empties. She had her 9 in her lap, too, and was listening to James Taylor’s greatest hits. She smiled when I came in.
Molly barked and wagged her tail from inside the truck. She had a large bloody bandage around her left hind leg; she had clearly been working at it. I didn’t know how long ago she’d been bitten, but she seemed okay to me. Time would tell.
“Hey babe,” I said softly, “what happened?”
“I went to bring Molly in and she nipped me on the hand. It was a pretty good one and broke the skin. I could actually use a stitch or two.”
I grabbed her hand and unwound the bandage. It was actually not a bad bite, considering that it could change everything. Two main punctures connected by a rip. It was clean and did not look like it was festering.
Just then, Molly went off and started barking wildly and trying to get at me. My heart dropped; it looked like she was going over. Then I remembered that I was carrying Shithead in a pillow case. I had completely forgotten. Shithead had just stuck her head out of the bag!
I handed Shithead to Kate. “This is the cat that almost got me killed over at the Snow’s house. I figured we’d keep it for Bobbie.” Shithead purred and cuddled with Kate, who rubbed its belly and scratched behind its ears.
“Is it a boy or a girl?” Kate asked.
“I haven’t checked, you tell me.”
“It’s a he, and he’s not neutered” she replied a moment later.
“When did Molly get bit?” I asked.
“Probably about 2:30, so about three hours ago. I got bit about twenty minutes later.”
“She seems okay,” I opined. “How about you?”
“I feel fine except that I’m scared, exhausted, and wondering if I’m going to turn and try to attack my family.”
“Your eyes look good. I think you can tell by looking at the eyes. Every one I’ve seen has a yellow or whitish film over their eyes. Yours are a little puffy and red but that’s understandable. Your skin feels a bit clammy but about normal. Dad died, turned, and got back down here in about fifteen minutes so I think it happens quickly if it’s going to happen. I bet you’re fine.”
“But we don’t know anything about it. I can’t leave the kids. I’m terrified. This is horrible. Do we even want to live? Do we want them to live in this?”
“All we can do is take it moment by moment. But I know that I want to live, I need you to live, and I think the kids will be okay. But if anything happens to you, I’d have trouble continuing.”
I told her about my adventure down at the Snow’s, and what I had found there. I told her what happened to Bill.
“What a tragedy,” Kate moaned. “It didn’t have to happen. He got careless for one second and he’s gone. You need to tell Mary.”
“I forgot because I was worried about you. I’ll go tell her now. How about you stay out here with Molly and Shithead until midnight? If you haven’t turned, and I know you won’t, we’ll let you all back in then.”
“Okay, go talk to Mary. I love you.”
“I love you too, Babe. I can’t live without you.”
Bill and Mary had been married for over 50 years and I thought it was going to be hard. But when I got to Mary, the first thing she said was, “I know. I could feel it when he died. Please tell me how it happened.”
I went over the whole thing with her, including how I had to kill Bill myself at the end. “Thank you,” she wept. “This is a hard new world. Thank God I have the twins to live for. Please leave me alone for awhile. I need to think and pray.”
That night we had another meeting. It was a short meeting, because Kate wasn’t there. Mike had taken inventory and figured we had enough food and water to last three weeks if we were careful. He and I already knew that we would never have enough ammo. He pointed out that we might be cooking over a wood fire in the near future and also heating with wood. Winter was coming in a few months.
Sean had filled up ten buckets with water and had continued to refill the tubs. “New rule,” he said. “Use just enough water to get the toilet to flush. If it’s brown, flush it down. If it’s yellow, let it mellow. We’re lucky that the toilets work. Don’t put anything in there to clog it up.” He had really matured.
Bobbie had gotten another cell call from Mariana. The call was brief and full of static, but Mariana said that there was a huge group of zombies packed together and going from place to place, destroying everything. They were headed away from Mariana so she thought she was safe. Then the call ended. There was no internet service except for some type of emergency broadcast. I made a mental note that “away” from Mariana was probably towards us. The thought of them mobbing up and attacking in big groups was a real concern.
Bobbie begged me to save Mariana.
“Dad, you know her mother is dead. You have lots of guns and you can save her. The zombies will get her if you don’t save her.” That kid could always get me, and the seed of an idea that I’d had earlier started to grow.
Tyler and Cody had been manning the radios. Other than music stations that were clearly on autopilot, there wasn’t much on. One station had been interrupted with one of those emergency messages, which told everyone to listen at 8:00 p.m. for further information.
We set up a radio and waited. At 7:58, the emergency sound came on, then nothing. At 8:05, we heard the President’s voice. He told us that the entire nation and indeed the entire world had been overrun. The civil government was disabled and martial law had been declared. Each state was on its own and local messages would follow. The military had established regional “safe” zones but the public was told to stay away while the zones were prepared for refugees. Some Navy ships had survived, including three carrier groups. They would continue to patrol. They were not accepting new passengers because of the fear of contamination.
The end of the speech was chilling: “This is
a new world with new rules. You will have to rely on yourselves and your neighbors. The government cannot help at this time. God help us all. We will broadcast each night at 8:00 p.m. for as long as we can.”
Next, the governor came on. Her message was the same, but on a more local level. She had imposed martial law and started to set up refugee camps; like the feds, they were not ready yet. She told us that the government was not functioning and that the National Guard was in charge locally but would defer to active duty military under federal control. Local police, fire, and medical services had been directed to cooperate with the Guard and were complying. Like the President, her words were somber. The transmission cut out before she finished.
My Mom spoke up. “Let’s talk about tomorrow. I think we should send out teams to check all of the houses in the neighborhood for survivors and supplies. Any survivors should be quarantined in the garage for 24 hours. We should block off the street so that more zombies don’t find us by accident.”
My kids and I waited until midnight, then immediately let Kate and the animals in. Thank God! Bobbie immediately fell in love with Shithead.
Chapter Seven: Monday
The next morning we went out early in two teams. One team was Jake and me. A second team was Kate and Steve. Steve, Jake and Julie seemed solid and capable so we’d decided to fully accept them and get them to work.
Julie, Mike, and Mom were in charge of security at the house. Bobbie would stay on the phones and the internet, Tyler and Cody would monitor the radios, and Mary agreed to cook for everyone. Sean would communicate with us over the walkie talkies. We all had breakfast together and moved out.
We decided to go out on foot and scavenge vehicles as we went. We hoped to grab more bikes as well. The teams agreed to cover one another; one team would cover and the other would enter. The teams and Sean were on channel 4.
We started at the Dillon/Snow end of the street. The carnage out on Chestnut Street was incredible, as was the stench of rotten meat. A few zombies were still moving, so I finished them with my crowbar. The fire had not gone far, just a few trees in addition to the car and the mower.
Zombie Dawn Page 5
