We decided to check the Dillon house and grab their vehicles to block the street. The house was a mess, but totally empty. We hung out with the Dillons all the time and knew where they kept their keys.
Jasper Dillon drove an older Ford pickup and Betty drove a new Mercedes SUV. We parked them side by side in the middle of our street, facing out, with the keys under the mats. Zombies would never find or use the keys and we figured that we might use the cars for a quick getaway or that other survivors might steal them, which would be okay. We parked them within an inch of each other so that zombies could not get through. We busted out the back windows, since that’s how we’d have to get in.
We found some water and supplies in the Dillon house and put them on the front yard to load later. There were no weapons but we did grab some hand tools including a few saws and tree trimmers. Apparently, they were going to build a fence and we found a few rolls of chain link mesh, poles and connectors and moved those out front as well. We also found several rolls of wire.
The Snows had an old 4 door pickup parked outside their garage. The keys were in the safe, which I opened. We quickly loaded it up with the Dillon stuff, the contents of the safe, and all of the food and water that we could carry. More was left to remove later.
The Snows were ham radio operators. Their shortwave setup looked pretty expensive and several licenses were posted on the walls. There were a few manuals and notebooks on the desk, so we took those, too. Ham operators existed all over the world and we hoped to find other survivors, and maybe some help, by using the radio. With the right radio, antenna, and power supply, a ham in Massachusetts might get through to almost anywhere in the world. Steve thought he could figure out how to use the shortwave radio so we took that along with its antenna.
Kate, Steve and Jake each took an M4 and a .45 and left their weapons in the truck. We wanted to have similar weapons so we could share ammo and magazines. The motorbike was light so I threw that in the back as well.
We made a quick run back to the house and got everyone to help us unload then went back out. I asked Mike to take the wire and set up a tripwire around the entire perimeter of the house, about eight inches off the ground. I told him to set up a second tripwire a few feet inside the first at twelve inches off the ground. I figured that would delay any zombies coming through the woods and also give us a warning. I made a mental note to try to find barbed wire and add that to the barrier.
Julie agreed to cover Mike while he ran the wire. This would leave the driveway as the only way in or out. I parked our truck across the driveway with the keys in it until we could create a better gate.
The next two houses in from Chestnut Street were the DiMartinos and the Cliffs. The DiMartinos had clearly gotten out without telling any of us. No cars in the garage, house empty, no weapons and only a few supplies. They had left what I really wanted, which was their old backhoe. I had borrowed it a bunch of times and knew how to use it. I was thinking of digging some trenches to protect us and the backhoe was crucial. It had a full tank, but I knew we’d need lots of diesel fuel. I drove the backhoe down to my house and left it there and returned a few minutes later.
The Cliff’s house was dark, shuttered, and locked. I listened carefully at the front door for a few minutes and heard nothing. I knocked loudly and listened again. Nothing. I took my crowbar and jimmied the lock. As the door opened, a gun went off and I felt a bullet part my hair. Luckily, I had crouched down a bit or I would have been dead.
I called out: “It’s Jack. Don’t shoot. Who is in there?” Again, silence. A few moments later, I heard Ronnie Cliff, the father, groan in pain. I yelled “I’m coming in to help; don’t shoot.”
When I opened the door, I saw Ronnie lying on the floor in a puddle of blood. He had a small handgun in his hand but the slide was locked open. He had been attacked and ripped open. “What happened, Ronnie?”
He groaned: “We hid out from the start. I saw what you did over at the Snows, that was great. I decided to go out this morning to look around. I made too much noise and two zombies followed me back. I ran downstairs to warn Carol and the kids and they must have gotten inside. I locked the door and grabbed my .32. I told Carol and the kids to stay in the basement, where we were hiding. The zombies grabbed me and bit me. I shot them but it did nothing. Carol screamed from the basement and they left me and went down there. Please, go see if you can save them!”
“Ronnie, you know that you’re going to become a zombie. I need to take care of that before I go down there.”
“Do whatever you have to, just get down there. Save my family.”
I ended Ronnie with the crowbar and went looking for the zombies. Rather than charge into the basement, I decided to close the door again and make some noise, see if I could draw them up. It worked perfectly. Two minutes later they started shuffling up the stairs. I gestured to Jake, who killed the first with a framing hammer, which got caught in the skull. As he struggled to pull it out, the other almost got Jake and I just had time to knock it down with the butt of my M4, which gave Jake time to free the hammer and end it with a blow to the temple.
Now it was time to check the basement. I called down to Carol: “Carol, it’s Jack. Are you okay?” She quickly responded: “Jack, we’re okay but we need help getting out. Please come down.” Jake and I carefully descended the stairs, turning on the lights as we went. In the corner of the basement was a large pile of stacked hardwood. Carol and the kids had climbed up on the pile, which had shifted, and they were partially buried. Her daughter Jamie was 15 and her son Rick was 17. Jack and I quickly dug them out. As we got close, I told Jack to stop. “Has anyone been bitten?” I asked. They all said that they hadn’t even come close to a zombie, so we helped them out.
I told them that their father was dead and that he had saved them. I also told them that they were welcome to stay with us. They immediately agreed to come. I asked Carol if I could use her cars to barricade the street. “Sure, Jack, anything to keep the kids safe.” I asked if they had any supplies. “Well, we have lots of wood and a few woodstoves; you can take that. We also have some canned goods and some bottled water. I know Ronnie just filled up the propane tanks. We don’t have any guns. I didn’t even know Ronnie had one.”
Kate and Steve quickly parked Carol’s Camry and Ronnie’s Civic across the street. It still wasn’t much of a barrier. Kate took a brush trimmer and started to cover the cars with some brush to break up the lines. It looked strange, but I knew that she’d eventually get it looking good.
We made a note to get the Cliff’s supplies later and returned to the house to drop off Carol, Jamie, and Rick. “You have to stay in the garage for 24 hours to make sure that none of you is infected. We’ll give you food and water but don’t try to get into the house, okay?” They quickly agreed. We told Julie about our new additions and went out for one more quick run before dark. I told Jake to grab a bat, since the hammer didn’t work very well. He grabbed Mike’s softball bat and we headed out.
“We have time for one more house before dark. What do you think, Kate?”
“Let’s check the Schmidt’s house. They didn’t go anywhere this weekend and hopefully there are survivors. I know that Stan is a hunter and he might have some supplies we can use.”
“Okay, let’s try the Schmidts. It’s the next one anyway.”
The Schmidt house was next to the Cliff residence. It was a large ranch with a three car garage and an in-ground pool. I made a mental note that we could use the pool water in a pinch.
Again, I knocked on the door, this time loudly announcing myself. I immediately heard Stan call out “Thank God. Marj, there are other survivors out here. Get the boys and Christina.” The “boys” were Stan’s son from a prior marriage. Wes was 24 and a plumber and Stan Jr. was 26 and an accountant. They frequently went hunting and fishing with Stan so we believed they’d come in handy. Also, Stan was a Marine who served in the first Gulf War, as was Wes, who’d served in Afghanistan. Christina was Marj’s
20 year old daughter, also from a prior relationship. Christina was a nursing student.
Stan opened the door and retreated to a nearby doorway. “Jack, come in where I can see you. Put your weapon on the floor. I need to make sure that you are okay.”
“Stan, before I do that I need to know if you or your family have been bitten or attacked by a zombie. If you tell me that you haven’t, I’ll put my gun down. I believe that you’ll tell me the truth.”
“Jack, we’re all okay. We’ve been hiding in the attic for two days. We’ve seen them out there and we’ve seen you going back and forth, but we haven’t been within 20 feet of one.”
I put my gun on the floor and told Jake to come in and do the same. Stan, Marj and the kids came pouring out, hugging us and pounding us on the back. It was a great moment to see our good friends safe and sound—and to know that we’d just made a great addition to our group of survivors.
“Stan, we have a group of survivors staying down at my house. I’d like you to join us for security and defense. If you want to join us, though, I’m afraid we need to quarantine you in the garage, unarmed, for 24 hours until we know you’re not infected.”
Stan immediately agreed. “Until we know what’s going on, there’s strength in numbers. Your house is least visible from the street and probably the best place to hole up. Let’s get going. It’s getting dark. We can come back tomorrow and get our stuff.”
“Mind if I grab your cars to add to the barricade at the end of the street?”
“Good idea, go ahead.”
Jake and I drove Stan’s Tundra pickup, Marj’s Accord, Christina’s Rav-4, and Stan Jr.’s F-250 down and added them to the barricade. We decided to hang onto Wes’ Hummer, since it was a huge, powerful and safe vehicle. I would never have bought one but it was a good car under the circumstances. It had 4 wheel drive and could carry a bunch of people and supplies.
Steve and Kate had done a great job on the barricade. The cars were entirely covered by branches, but not enough to stop them if we needed to move them. The opening to our street was pretty much obscured, at least, we thought, from a zombie’s point of view. Kate had wedged tall branches upright between the cars and at the ends so you couldn’t see any houses unless you really looked. There were stone walls on both sides of the street; that would indicate to any survivors that a street was there but the zombies wouldn’t know.
I made a note to weave a few strands of wire between the trees along Chestnut Street and on both sides of our street. Both the Dillons and the Snows had allowed their side yards, running along Chestnut Street, to stay wild and they were densely wooded. That, and a few strands of wire, might prevent wanderers from accidentally stumbling down our street. I also decided, when I could, to plant a few trees right in our street where it intersected with Chestnut. That would help with the disguise.
We returned to the house and called it a day. Mike had shot two zombies who had strayed into his line of fire. One of them was Doug Capute, the son of a local farmer. The Capute farm backed up to the woods that backed up to my house; he had apparently wandered through. Maybe he had smelled us. That made me think of all the stuff that we could use from the farm, and also about defending the street.
The rest of the kids offered their report. Bobbie, Tyler and Cody had been trying to get the Snow’s radio to work. With some help from Mike and Mom, they’d run the antenna out a window, plugged the radio in, and set it up on a table with an office chair. So far, they’d picked up only static but it was a start. They’d been listening to the regular radios but got only music and canned programming; no new news.
Sean continued to think about water, which was good. He had found two brand new trash barrels that Kate had bought and put them under a couple of our gutter downspouts. He had covered the openings with chicken wire and window screens. He was pretty proud. “Dad, this way, when it rains, these barrels will fill up with water. We can use the water to flush the toilets or, if we had to, we could drink it. Tomorrow, I’m going to put that old kiddie pool out under the front downspout and get any water that comes out.”
Sean also reminded me that Dan Curren had just put in a well for his irrigation system. “If the water pipes stop working, maybe we can figure out how to get water out of Dan’s well.”
“Great work, Sean. And great work by the radio team. You guys are awesome.”
At that night’s meeting, we were in good spirits. We had found a bunch of survivors and hoped to find more. We had continued securing the area, and had plenty of supplies for the time being. We were working on water supply and communications. Not bad so far. We decided to continue work on the neighborhood the next day.
Jake offered to go up onto the roof to complete installation of the antenna. We took him up on it, even though it was dark. We set up a ladder on the porch roof and Jake flew up it. He ran the antenna up the chimney and tied it on with some clothesline. He called down “Hey, we have a good view to the south from up here. It looks like Capute’s farm is burning.”
Cody yelled out “I’ve got something.” I could hear him trying to transmit back to whoever he had heard. I told Jake to come in, and ran over and told Cody not to speak to anyone. “We need to be very careful about letting people know we’re here. Don’t speak to anyone, just listen and let us know what’s going on.”
“Okay, Jack. The microphone wasn’t even plugged in. No one heard us. I’ll tell everyone no talking.”
The transmission ended quickly, but clearly whoever was making it was under attack.
Chapter Eight: Tuesday
The next day poured rain and was chilly. All of our new people in the garage were fine. We now had quite a crew: My family, including Mom, was six. Five Schmidts. Steve, Julie, and Jake Miller. Mary, Tyler, and Cody Johnson. We had Carol, Jamie, and Rick Cliff. It was getting to be quite a crew, and clearly we would need more space.
For the time being, we decided that my family would stay in the master bedroom. Mom, Mary, Tyler and Cody would stay in Mike’s room. Steve, Carol, and Jake would stay in Sean’s room. Carol, Jamie, and Rick would stay in Bobbie’s room. The Schmidts set up in the attic, which was pretty well furnished with mattresses and camping gear by then. We figured that would work for a few days, and that it was better to stay together than to spread out. It was already starting to stink, but we were already getting used to it.
No one wanted to go out much that day. Sean refilled all of the buckets from the rain barrels and the kiddie pool. The toilets were working fine and the water was still on, but we knew it was only a matter of time until the juice shut off, the pumps shut down, and the tanks emptied. We still had plenty of drinking water stored up. Mike remembered that we needed a minimum of a gallon per day per person for drinking and cleaning.
We started talking about eventually re-taking, and occupying, the entire neighborhood and maybe spreading out from there. The Dillon and Snow houses were a mess, and we were not eager to expose ourselves to the virus that we knew was there. The Schmidt and Cliff houses, and my Mom’s house, seemed fine. We had not been to the Curren house, which was next to my parents’ house. We definitely wanted to get there and to check out the well.
The house next to mine belonged to Clive Barrows and Eddie Lancaster, a married gay couple from England, and their adopted son, Charlie. Clive and Eddie were in their early 50s and Charlie was in his teens. Clive and Eddie had moved to Massachusetts after the courts allowed gay marriage in 2004 and had been the first couple married by our town clerk.
The whole gay marriage thing made me chuckle. The religious folks were up in arms but to me it was simple—if I can’t discriminate against them, neither can the government. Massachusetts is a liberal state—even our “conservatives” would be considered commies in Orange County and much of the south—and discrimination against gays and lesbians had been outlawed for many years.
I’d been trained in law school to break things down into pieces, and then analyze the elements. My thinking was as follows. One�
��is a person a member of a protected class? Yes, other than the obese and pedophiles (and, many of us would argue, white guys) almost everyone was protected. Question two: Does marriage confer any benefit on married couples? The answer, setting aside a couple thousand divorce jokes, is yes—married people enjoy tax, estate, and property ownership benefits that unmarried people don’t. Three: Can I discriminate against gays as a private citizen? No. Four: Can the government, which orders me not to discriminate, itself discriminate against gays?
This answer was more complicated, as governments had effectively mastered hypocrisy over hundreds and thousands of years. It depended on opinion polls, lobbyists, and campaign contributions and not on reason, logic, the golden rule, or any other rationale developed by and for non-governmental entities. The second great ability of government was misdirection and public relations. The third was avoidance. Combine the hypocrisy with the misdirection and the avoidance and you were left with the quagmire that ruled the western world. At least someone had gotten this one right!
In any event, I hoped Clive and Eddie were okay, because they were close friends and a couple of the funniest bastards I’d ever met. Don’t get me wrong, even though I am very pro-gay and pro-gay marriage, really effeminate guys still creep me out. Clive and Eddie were just good folks who kept their sex lives in their bedroom.
We decided to cover more ground. Stan and Wes Schmidt and Steve Miller would take the Curren house. Since we planned to occupy it, we decided that we would not move anything out, but just survey it for supplies and defense. Mike (who hadn’t stopped pestering me to get out on a “mission”), Jake and I would run some wires along Chestnut Street, empty out and burn the Dillon and Snow houses, and burn any dead bodies at that end of our street. Kate, Stan Jr. and Julie would check out the Barrows house for supplies and defense.
Zombie Dawn Page 6
