by Thomas Baker
Harold didn't think the deer was going to slow the zombies down much. As if to prove Harold's point, two zombies burst through the underbrush, silent as shadows. They were making a beeline straight to the old man, Gus.
He took one out with a perfectly placed bullet in the head. It dropped like a rock. The other zombie lunged and had his head blown apart. It was another man from the group Harold had just found. He had his lips drawn back in a snarl and his eyes darted all over the forest, as if daring more zombies to appear.
“Let’s go. This is not the place to make a stand. We could be surrounded to easily," Harold said. "If there are no more quick ones, we should be able to make it to the other side of the highway.”
Harold turned and took off once more. Periodically he would turn, scanning the woods to make sure no more zombies burst out behind them. The sounds of pursuit became fainter. Harold thought that he would at least make it back alive.
They came out into the open space of grass next to the highway. Harold didn’t let up on the pace and raced across the black asphalt. He was crossing the white dividing line when he began to signal to Thomas on the other side. He pointed up in the air with his index finger and twirled it twice. They were coming in hot.
Harold got to the other side of the highway. He stopped in the tall grass, and dropped down on one knee. He looked through the scope, taking everything in. Most of the people following him had made it onto the highway. Gus and JT, with the girl on his back, were trailing badly. They had just made it out of the woods.
“When you start seeing the dead, open fire," Harold called up to Thomas, who was behind some rocks, on the hill above him.
Everyone but Gus, JT and the wounded girl had crossed the highway. Harold motioned the people to go up and join Thomas on the rocks above.
“Ashley has to makes it across, okay?" The other woman in the group pleaded with him. Then the black kid grabbed her hand and pulled her along.
Harold said nothing. He just went back to watching the stragglers. They had made it to the shoulder of the road. Behind them the zombies started pouring out of the woods.
Harold fired one place shot after another, taking his time. His heartbeat remained as steady as his hand. Above him he heard Mike and Thomas start firing as well. The dead began to drop at a faster rate. Harold concentrated, using well placed shots to take out any zombies that came too close to JT, Ashley, and Gus.
The three made it across. JT collapsed on the ground next to Harold, gasping for breath. Ashley half fell, half rolled off his back. Gus was doubled over, hands on his knees. Now that the road was clear of the living, it made it a lot easier to take out the rest of the dead.
The firing stopped as the tide of undead ended. Piles of bodies laid this way and that on the road and in the grass. Harold's ears were ringing from the gunfire.
Harold jumped up on the outcrop, standing next to Thomas. He scanned the area with his binoculars, just to make sure it was clear. Nothing moved in the tangle of bodies. After a few minutes, he came back down.
“Let's go back...” Harold started, when the man with the wild eyes pushed past him. He went out onto the road, and proceeded to violently bash in the heads of every corpse that still had one with a crowbar.
Harold turned, looking at JT, one eyebrow raised.
"That's Alan. It's better to not even ask," JT said, exhausted. "He might be out there for awhile."
"Come on Ashley." JT put one arm around the wounded woman's shoulder. The other woman in the group came over to help.
"Lead on," JT said.
Harold proceeded up the bluff. The shell shocked travelers followed.
Harold lead them alongside the dirt road to his cabin. On the way, he got an overview of who everyone was and what had happened to them in the last few days from JT. It seemed to Harold that JT was the de facto leader.
"Thanks for pulling our feet out of the fire back there," JT said, "We've fought a lot of zombies since this all started, but I'm not sure we could have handled another ambush by a group like that."
Harold said nothing, hoping he would drop it. It made him feel uncomfortable inside. He wasn't even sure why he had saved them. It was just a spur of the moment decision, a gut feeling he had. When he looked over at Ashley and Hannah, he was sure he made the right choice. They were both beautiful.
"I left Thomas behind to guide your friend Alan up," Harold stopped, speaking a little louder so everyone could hear him. "In a few minutes we will be up to my property line. There you will all have to follow my directions precisely. I've placed many traps around my cabin, to keep it zombie free."
Harold could feel his cheeks getting warm as he addressed them. He couldn't even remember the last time he was so close to so many people. To him they might as well have been a crowd of a hundred.
"That sounds insane. We're going to trust this guy, follow him to who knows what?" Dusty said, as he glared in Harold's direction. Harold was pretty sure he meant to say that loudly enough so he would hear it.
The group huddled closer together. Harold backed away to put some space between him and the group. Harold could see some intense discussion was going on, especially between JT and Dusty. He made the call that JT was the leader, but it looked to him like Dusty wanted to be.
They broke apart. It was clear not all of them were happy. JT walked the few short steps to Harold to announce their decision.
"We're ready to go on."
The group followed Harold's lead doing as he directed them for a few hundred yards.
They arrived at the cabin without incident. Harold let them inside. He motioned to JT.
"Lay your hurt friend on the couch. Go down that hallway there and you will find a closet. Grab a blanket and two pillows and bring them to me," Harold instructed JT.
"It hurts so bad," whined Ashley as JT and Tyrone sat her down. She sharply inhaled as her bod his the couch.
"Knock it off already Ashley, we know, we know. Can't you just be grateful we got here and shut up for one minute?" Dusty said. Harold saw JT shoot a nasty look at Dusty, his lips became a thin line.
"Yes, your foot. Let me have a look at it," Harold said.
He felt nervous, his hands were shaking a little as he caressed her ankle. She was so beautiful and young. He took a few deep breaths to calm himself. He tried not to let it show that she was making him nervous.
Harold gingerly pulled her shoe and sock off and began to examine it as JT came back.
"What do you want me to do with these?" he asked, holding up the pillows and blanket.
"Ah yes," Harold said in a distracted voice. "One pillow goes under her head, the other under her injured foot. Then the blanket goes over her."
He continued to examine her injury as JT got everything into place. Her skin was so smooth and inviting.
"Ashley, right? You have a sprained ankle. It's severe. I'm sure you are in pain. Let's try putting some ice on it, keep it elevated and we can see if it is better in a day or two. Then I may be able to massage it, to increase the speed of recovery."
Ashley grimaced.
"There's no signs of any infection or bite marks we missed is there?" JT asked, hesitantly.
"No." Harold replied. Everyone was obviously relieved.
"Wait," Gus interrupted, sounding amazed. "You have ice?"
"Yes. I have a generator out back. I have been able to maintain my property and be self sufficient, at the same level as before."
"Well I'll be damned. You sure do have lights and the whole nine yards don't ya?" Gus said, looking around like a bright eyed in a toy store, a goofy grin on his face " Guess I was too bamboozled to notice at first. Well hot damn, it's going to be like we traveled back in time tonight. Roof, lights, ice. You have hot water too, mister?"
"It's Harold. I have well water, which I usually heat up outside over a fire, so I guess the answer is yes."
"Fuck me, this setup sounds better than poking a pair of red headed twins," Gus cackled.
Ha
nnah made a face at Gus.
Harold cringed, but keep silent.
"We're back to the real for real," Tyrone said.
The front door creaked open. Thomas and Alan came in. Alan was covered in gore. Thomas trailed behind him, looking disgusted. Alan looked exhausted, yet strangely satisfied at the same time.
"Alan, I got good news for you buddy," Gus said. "We can get you some hot water."
"No shit? Where do I sign up," Alan said, brightening up.
"Alan. Don't bring that filth into my home. Can you wait out on the front porch while we get things squared away?" Harold snapped.
"Like I always told my daughters, would a please hurt you?" Alan said, begrudgingly heading back out the door.
"I'm just glad we got back," Thomas said.
"Speaking of getting things squared away Harold, what's the plan? What's the layout here? Unless this place is a lot bigger than it looked from the outside, where are we all going to stay?" Dusty started in.
Harold held up his hand as a reply. He paced around the room, thinking. Moments later he spoke.
"I have a spare bedroom across from mine. Thomas has been staying in there, but I'm sure he wouldn't mind giving it up. The women can stay in there. The rest of you can push the furniture back out of the way and stay on the floor, until I can think of something better. Thomas and Mike have been here for awhile, they can help you out with where things are."
"I'm getting kicked out of the bedroom?" Thomas complained. "I can't believe...."
A look from Harold stopped him mid sentence.
"Now, if you all will excuse me . It's already been a long day. I'll leave you all to sort it all out."
Harold went out the door. He pointed out to Alan the well around the side and sent him on his way. He sat out on his front porch, settling into his favorite chair. He had never had that many people in his cabin before. It was a little too much for him. Out here though, it still felt quiet and peaceful.
Why did you save them? A part of him spoke up, there in the darkness. He really didn't have an answer for that voice. He had acted spontaneously, which he kept telling himself he shouldn't do. It seemed to happen over and over again regardless of the promises he made himself. He was nothing but a methodical planner when it came to taking care of the cabin. His opinion was if you didn't make a good plan and follow it, you were just asking for bad things to happen to you.
He kept scanning the road and the forest, half suspecting more zombies to come out and start charging the cabin. Stop being ridiculous. That phrase, one of his mother's, came to his mind. The chances of him being taken by surprise by anyone, zombie or not, was slim. Still he found it hard to relax. It must have been his nerves, he had never had this many people at his cabin. Or maybe it was the voice inside his head. Send them on their way, the sooner the better that voice spoke up again. Usually he would only have that kind of voice in his head, speaking to him, after going into town. Could the government's machines still be running? He considered it was possible, that they could have battery backups and automatic settings to keep them running for months without human control. It made him feel sick to his stomach.
Harold stayed out front as the quarter moon rose higher and the crickets began to chirp their lullaby. When his chin began touching his chest, he decided it was time to go in.
Back inside, all the men were sprawled out across his living room. They were all fast asleep. He headed to his room. He reached for the door handle, then stopped. He opened the door to the spare bedroom instead. He stood there, as silent as the dead, watching Ashley and Hannah sleep. Several minutes passed before he turned, closing the door behind him, feeling aroused and rigid.
Alan awoke. He popped up to a sitting position. Looking around he saw that he was the first up. He stretched and carefully made his way out of the living room. Even though his right arm was sore from exertion, he still felt the most normal he had since, as JT had put it, "the shit got real." He didn't know if it was because of spending the night in a real house again or that he was cleaner than he had been in weeks.
He went into the kitchen and poked around. His stomach felt like a hole had formed inside of it. Harold shuffled in, rubbing his temples. "I have a migraine. Alan right? Tell the rest that they can help themselves to whatever they want. I will be staying in my room for awhile."
Alan thought he looked pretty pale. Hope it's just a headache and not something contagious.
The rest of the living room crew started stirring around. Ashley and Hannah joined them, coming out from their bedroom. They came out into the living room with their hair sticking up in crazy directions. Alan chuckled to himself, as a bittersweet memory of his girls passed through his mind.
"Hey there Al," Gus said, joining him in the kitchen. "Why don't you let me give you a hand. I'm so hungry I could eat the southbound side of a northbound cow."
"Sure," Alan said shaking his head at Gus's saying. "Harold came out here and said we can help ourselves."
"Well in that case, let me whip up a little something."
Gus surprised them all with how delicious his hot breakfast was. It was their first warm, complete meal in weeks.
"Unbelievable that I would find eggs, let alone some honest to goodness artery clogging bacon," Gus said, between mouthfuls.
Alan had to admit, it was the best breakfast he had eaten since the last one his wife had made him. He abruptly put the brakes on that train of thought.
"Highway run, into the midnight sun. Wheels go round and round in my mind." Tyrone serenaded, as he washed up the dirty dishes afterwards. He had charged his IPod overnight. Ashley giggled as she dried the dishes and put them away.
"I told you it wasn't pointless to keep all my stuff Dusty," Tyrone said, when the song ended. "One day soon the military and the government will have this all figured out. This is the USA my man. I will be back to playing football but more importantly, playing with my female fans, in no time. If you know what I mean."
This got a laugh from everyone, except Dusty, who grunted.
"I will find my family too. You can count on that."
Alan sat over on the couch, content with his full belly. He certainly hoped Tyrone did. He knew how Tyrone's Mom and Dad must feel right now. Not knowing where their child was. If he was still alive or turned into one of those.....things. Those familiar feelings of sadness mixed with rage began to rise inside of him. With an effort he shut them down. Not now.
"I bet they are in some city shelter, or some FEMA or National Guard site right now," Alan tried to reassure him. "Who knows, maybe they are having a nice hot breakfast right now. Just like us."
"You can't rely on the government for building a proper toilet so you can take a shit in it. I wouldn't hold my breath that any help from the government is coming," Harold said.
Alan didn't even realize that Harold had come back out of his room.
"In fact, I wouldn't be shocked if it was discovered they caused the outbreak," Harold went on. "Probably some military science experiment gone wrong, as they were trying to find a source of cheap troops to supply and control."
"What in the hell are you going on about?" Dusty stood up from his chair, visibly upset. "What are you, some kinda conspiracy nut? That why you have this cabin set up here, all decked out with supplies?"
"Dustin, why don't you shut the hell up," JT said.
"This man has saved us in more ways than one and you are going to start insulting him?" Gus chimed in. "For having a opinion?"
"I doubt he's ever served in the military. I have, and I am not going to sit here and listen to this horse shit about the evil United States, we are always the problem, left wing crap." Dusty threw his hands up and stormed out of the cabin.
Alan could see that Harold was visibly shaking, as if to control an earthquake inside of him. He knew that look from first hand experience. Alan waited for him to speak again, but he just stood there eyes closed, fists in balls.
"Sorry, man," JT said. "He's kinda a di
ck."
Harold left, going out the front door without a word.
Those who remained looked at each other.
"I will go,"Alan volunteered.
Alan found Harold sitting on his front porch chair, rifle across his lap, staring off into the woods.
"Care if I join you?" Alan asked.
"I don't need any more apologies, if that's what you came for."
"No, I mean not exactly." Alan pulled up a chair. "They all mean well in their own way, but at times they act like children. Even Gus and Dusty in a way. They bicker and fight and I have wanted to leave them half a dozen times. Just about that time, as I'm ready to go, some threat happens or some big obstacle shows up. Somehow, every time, they've pulled their act together. Here we all are, still alive."
When Harold didn't tell him to leave, Alan went on.
"Now Dusty seems to think that the whole world is against him. I'm convinced that he still thinks that about us half the time. He likes to throw his weight around too, but can't figure out his rough manner is why most of the time no one wants to follow him. He is paranoid, sometimes to the point I think he is crazy. He can be abrasive and callous too. On the other hand he has saved our asses on more than one occasion. He knows strategies and he knows how to fight. So I am just hoping that you can look past his big mouth and not judge us all by what he says. He can be valuable to you."
"You make a good point. I also think, you don't want to be dumped back out there?" Harold asked.
"Fair enough. I won't deny that we don't," Alan replied.
"You calling him crazy, that's like the pot calling the kettle black. After your thing out there on the highway, right?"
They both sat in silence for a long time. Alan was just about to get up and leave when Harold spoke again.
"You tell that son of-you tell him that this is my roof, my hospitality. He should wise up to that.""Sure. Thanks, Harold," Alan said, relieved.
"Now get on out of here, I want to be left alone for awhile."
So did Alan. Instead of going back inside, he walked from the front of the cabin around to the back. He wasn't alone yet. He immediately ran into JT and Hannah. They stood close to each other, looking at a big tanker truck parked alongside the generator. Alan was going to go straight off but curiosity got the better of him.
