David nodded. "Who else is inside?"
"My family."
"Tell them to come out slowly." David still held the Colt .45 and now Cheryl joined him.
The man looked confused. "I thought you said you were the military. Where are the tanks and big guns?"
David shook his head. "We're not the military. Not anymore. I'm David Monsour and this is my wife, Cheryl. We're trying to escape."
A pretty older woman and two young daughters stepped outside.
"Are we being evacuated?" the youngest girl asked.
"I don't know, sweetheart." The man put his hands down. "I'm Chris Everson, and this is my wife, Judy, and our girls, Allie and Edy."
David didn’t want this to go bad and he felt sorry for rattling the family. But better safe than getting bitten or shot at by a homeowner. "Do you have any weapons to defend yourself with?"
The man shook his head. "We've just been hiding in the garage."
"Come with me," David said. When the man didn't move, David smiled. "We're not the bad guys, but they'll be here soon. Trust me."
He followed David to the back of the Ford Raptor. "Nice wheels," he said. "Where did you find this?"
"I actually bought it a year ago. I've kept it in the garage ready to go. It had less than three hundred miles on it when we started running. I guess I won’t have to worry about another car payment on it." David opened the back and pulled out a small box. "Ever fire a gun before?"
The man shook his head. “No. I’ve never held one in my hands, but I’m a quick learner if need be."
"Good. This is for you. Protect those girls."
"Mister, I can't take this from you. What if you need it for your family?"
"We have enough firepower to get us where we're going."
The man opened the box. "Wow," he finally said.
"It's a Sig Sauer 1911 Nitron with two full magazines, which only gives you sixteen shots, so use them wisely."
"Why are you helping a stranger?"
"I've worked this scenario in my head and on paper for years. No matter what disaster struck, I had a plan. Now that we're in the damn thing nothing is working the way I wanted it to. But I'm not going to lose who I am. Chris, prepare yourself because there are going to be some messed up individuals in your path from this point out, people who want what you have, and will take the women from you."
"Why did you stop here?"
"I siphoned your gas from the two cars, and we'd planned on raiding your home for food and supplies if it was unoccupied."
Chris nodded. “I'm glad you aren't some of the men I know will eventually come. I didn’t want to go with the others."
"What others?"
Chris pointed down the empty road. "The rec center at the end of the block. All the other neighbors took the sick and the kids down there and barricaded it in."
"Why didn’t you go?"
"I really never liked too many of my neighbors. And I've seen enough zombie movies to know you abandon the sick or everyone will be infected. And shoot them in the head."
* * * * *
Chris and his family decided it was time to leave as well. After sheepishly apologizing again for stealing their gas, David helped Chris refill the newer car. They jammed the trunk and backseat with only essentials: food, water and camping supplies.
David and Chris broke into the next home over and raided the pantry, finding a ton of canned goods and bottled water. Most of David's supply was in the bunker in Thunder Bay. If they could get there, it would feed all of them for a year.
Satisfied that they couldn't carry anything else in the two vehicles, they stood in the driveway and got ready to depart.
On a whim, David gave Chris directions to the bunker in Canada and the pass code to get inside, in the event they were separated. They all knew what an absolute long-shot it would be to head into enemy territory (as everything north of them was) and find a way to the safety of the bunker, but it made David feel better.
"It's time to go," David said.
"Are we going to the rec center?" Chris asked.
"We have to. If they are still alive, we need to warn them about what's going on." Cheryl had monitored the various bands all morning and the barriers set in place had all fallen, the military pulling back and scattering. The zombies were marching through Iowa like a locust horde.
They drove to the end of the road and pulled into the parking lot of the rec center. The windows were boarded from inside and someone with intelligence had parked cars leading up to the front door and side exit to create a killing zone and a maze.
David kept the Raptor engine running and followed the car maze, weapon drawn. He got to the door and hesitated, listening for noise.
Nothing.
Chris was at his side. "Maybe they heard us pull up and are scared? Telling everyone to be quiet?"
"How many people again?"
"Probably fifty."
David knocked on the door. "This is the United States military. I need to speak to whoever is in charge."
The door shook as something (or several somethings) slammed against it from the other side. It almost creaked off its hinges.
"Is anyone alive in there?" Chris asked, tears in his eyes.
The pounding was nonstop and the door would burst soon. "Time to leave," David said.
"They weren't bad neighbors. Quiet. Friendly. All of them. Now…" Chris jumped into his car.
"Time to go," David said and put the Ford Raptor in drive just as the door of the rec center collapsed.
Cheryl raised her Colt .45 but David was already driving away. "Save your bullets."
David watched in the rearview mirror as the Everson family followed them, dozens of zombies shuffling from the rec center.
Chapter Three
They were still in Iowa when they stopped to refuel at a gas station. When the entire Everson family got out of the car, David shook his head. It was his own fault because he hadn't taken the time to explain a few things to them.
"The kids need to stay in the car until we know it's safe," David said. "If this is an ambush, we won't have time to save them."
Chris nodded and told Judy to get back in the car.
"They have to pee. I have to pee," Judy said.
David smiled. "Ma'am, give us a minute to assess the situation. I'm sure it will be fine and then we can all pee."
Judy scrunched her nose and pointed at Cheryl. "Why isn't she staying in the car?"
Cheryl laughed and tapped her Colt .45's in their holsters. "I'm the best shot here."
David didn't want to argue with her. Plus, she was probably right. "Chris…"
"Honey, please let us do this," Chris said to her.
Judy reluctantly got back in the car.
"I'm sorry about that."
David shook his head. "Don't apologize. But you need to take command of your family. I'm not trying to be an ass, but, if you don't, everyone you love will die. Now get behind me and watch the perimeter."
Cheryl knew what to do. She moved to the right, leading with a pistol, into the open bay garage doors. David slid to the glass windows of the main area and took everything in at a glance. It looked empty, but there were too many places to hide.
"One whistle means you see immediate danger. Two whistles means a vehicle is approaching," David said.
"Uh, I can't whistle," Chris admitted. "Sorry."
"Don't be sorry. But you need to let us know if we're walking into trouble or it's coming down the highway. Got it?"
When Chris nodded, David went to the door and pushed it open. Like the bay doors, it wasn't secured. That wasn't a good sign. So far the roads had been relatively clear, but once they got anywhere near a major city, they'd be in trouble. David was hoping some of these out of the way gas stations and farmhouses would provide them with food and supplies so they could keep moving south.
It was the only way to move right now. David knew they could get cute and run east or west, but it might take them
directly in line with a horde of them barreling down. From the scattered reports on the radio, the monsters seemed to be marching south, killing anything in their path and adding to their swelling ranks.
David was hoping, this far south of the front lines, people would still be holed up or cleared out. But you couldn't take any chances. Like Chris had said, I'm from Iowa. We're born with a rifle in our hands.
The door might have been opened when whoever was inside heard the engines from down the road. A smart man wouldn't want anyone coming to bust down their door and expose them to future attacks. He also might want to show potential looters the door's already open and nothing of value is left.
"I don't like this," David said. Cheryl stopped and Chris took another step before doing the same. "Move back and take cover. I'm going to call out."
When he was satisfied they'd done as he'd told them, Chris put up his hands but still held his weapon. "Hello? Is anyone inside? We're in need of supplies and gas. Can you help us?"
David definitely heard something moving inside. He began counting to ten in his head. If no one answered, he'd have to go inside and trust he'd be shooting at zombies.
"Get back here," someone hissed from inside, and David caught a glimpse of a small girl in the doorway before a hand dragged her back inside.
"We're not here to hurt anyone," David said.
"What do you want?" a male voice said. "We don't have anything."
"Do the fuel pumps work?"
There was whispering going on between several people inside.
Cheryl motioned to David to see if she should go around to the back of the station but he shook his head. If they were watching from one of the windows, they'd see it as an act of aggression.
"We're closed," the male voice yelled again.
"We could really use some gas. I have two daughters and we'd like to get away from the danger that is coming," Chris yelled from behind a gas pump.
"You might want to step away from there in the event of shooting," David said quietly.
"I'm coming out, but we have ten rifles aimed at your heads."
David made sure his hands were up but his finger was on the trigger. At a second's notice, gravity would help the gun fall into place and he'd be shooting. "We're all cool outside."
An old man stepped out, using the door to hold onto. He didn't have a weapon. He wore a mechanic's jumpsuit, stained from years of work. "You military?"
"We're advanced scouts," David said, glad he'd kept all his camo and gear on despite the heat. "This horde is marching right down the road. You'd best get out of town before it catches up with you."
The old man spit on the ground, but not as an insult. "What town? You see a town? I live behind the station with my family. Grandkids. But we seen some weird stuff moving through the fields this morning and decided to hide in the bay until help arrived. Crazy stuff on the television and radio, before they went silent."
David grimaced. Had the undead already reached this far south?
"How many zombies did you see?" Chris asked.
The old man laughed softly. "A bunch on the TV. I'm talking about weird men in camouflage moving like they're on safari." He looked at David. "Dressed like you and your woman, in fact. You part of the militia?"
"Militia? Why would you say it was a militia?" Chris asked.
David relaxed. The old man was upfront but no harm. "We're not with them. But I'd like to know in what direction they went, so we don’t run into a large force of armed men."
"They were all wearing matching outfits," the old man said.
"They could've been National Guard or Army," Cheryl said. "I'm sure they've been mobilized this far south already."
"Nope, not likely. They all looked grizzled, and I recognized a few as men who got gas here. They were always dressed like that, with rifles in the trucks and crazy decals on their bumpers and shirts. Stuff about national pride and white power."
"Great," David said quietly.
"Kill 'em all and let God sort 'em out was a familiar slogan on their shirts, too."
"A bunch of wannabe cowboys looking for any excuse to shoot their guns," Cheryl said. "I guess they're everywhere."
David remembered some of these gung-ho people at the gun club and shooting range from back home. They'd bring hundreds of dollars worth of ammo with them and go through it like it was nothing, all the time talking about the end of days and all their prepper ideas. Most of them wouldn't have stopped to save a can of corn, but David was sure some of them were holed up in a bunker and salivating, waiting for a zombie to approach so they could let loose with weapons.
The old man shifted his eyes up and down the road. "They'll be back, though."
"Why didn’t they try to loot your home or gas station?" Chris asked.
David smiled. Good question.
The old man shook his head but he wasn't making eye contact. "I don't know and I don't care." His stare looked from one weapon to another. "Just get out of here."
"Where are they now?" David asked.
"Gone, I tell ya." The old man looked scared. He didn’t move his head but his eyes rolled casually trying to look behind him.
How many? David mouthed.
Three and twenty, the old man answered.
David made sure to make a show of the rifle in his arms. "Then, for your sake and your families, I hope they don’t come back. Let's roll."
"That's it?" Chris asked. "We need fuel."
"Get in the car," David said quietly.
"This doesn’t make any sense." Chris put his hands on his hips. "We need to gas up."
"You need to move, now, before I shoot you," Cheryl said as she passed Chris. "We're being watched."
"I don’t see the point…" Chris crumpled to the ground at the first gunshot.
The shot had come from the field to the right of the gas station and not from the garage. David yelled for everyone to get down and moved around the vehicles, pointing at the gas station when Cheryl looked for his command.
The car door opened and Judy went to step out. "Get back in the car and get down with your children. Are you nuts?" David asked.
"Chris was shot," she said with a hitch in her voice.
"And you're about to be, too," David said and lined up the rifle on the back bumper of the car, using the scope to see who was ambushing them.
Three men, all with high-powered rifles, were clumped in one spot in the field.
Amateurs, David thought. He aimed and shot one in the face with ease.
"Get down or I will shoot you. I don't care how old you are," Cheryl said loudly. David couldn't see from his angle, and he didn't want to lose his position behind the car. One of the three had taken the shot and hit Chris. He didn't know if all three were good shots. He hoped not to find out.
The two men finally split up, rolling a few feet from one another but coming up with their rifles. David decided the one on the right was next, and pulled the trigger. His head exploded.
The last man fired, the shot screaming wide. His next shot hit the gas station fifteen feet off the mark.
"I have the gas station under control," Cheryl said. "Three on the ground."
David aimed where he thought the last man was through the weeds and fired. A spray of blood and David knew he'd connected. "We need to move before the rest come."
David ran around to the other side of the cars and saw Cheryl with three men in fatigues on their knees, hands locked on their heads. Their weapons had been put behind her. David scooped them up and put them in the back of the vehicle.
The old man had a teenage boy with him, both scared.
"Get in the car," Cheryl said.
"I can't. My family is back at the house. They swore they wouldn't hurt anyone as long as we brought them people," the old man said quietly. "But I wanted you to leave. We hadn't seen a soul in days."
Chris rolled over and sneezed. David noticed there was no blood on the pavement.
"They'll be here in seconds.
Come with us and we'll make sure you live," Cheryl said.
"I'm alive," Chris muttered as he stood and dusted himself off. "I wasn't hit."
"Did you feel a bullet hit you?" David asked.
"No. I heard the shot and fell," Chris said sheepishly.
"Get in the car. When we get somewhere safe, I need to have a talk with you and your wife, because you're not going to jeopardize my life again." David turned back to the old man. "Come on, we're wasting time."
One of the men on the ground chuckled. "It's too late."
"What did you say?" Cheryl asked.
The man looked up. "They heard the gunshots. I haven't reported back within the allotted time. The family will die."
David thought he was going to be sick as he heard the distant gunshots.
Chapter Four
"We go in and blow them up for doing this," Chris said, but he didn’t sound too sure of himself.
Cheryl handed Chris her rifle. "Here you go, killer. Go in guns blazing. Tell me how it works out for you."
"Huh?" He refused to take it from her, folding his arms across his chest.
"I need to save my family," the old man said. He was hugging the teenager. "His parents are back at the house. My daughter… my entire family."
Everyone was staring at David. "We don’t know who is still alive in the house. How many gunmen did you say?"
"Twenty, maybe a few more. Every couple of days another truck pulled up with more supplies and more hillbillies with rifles. Damnest thing I ever saw," the old man said. "They kept us in the back bedroom with the windows boarded up. We were only allowed to come out a couple at a time. I had to help them in the gas station, and they kept me away from my family as much as possible." He covered the boy's ears with his calloused hands. "They pulled the women into the dining room." He closed his eyes.
David looked back to the house. There was an outgrown field between the farm and the gas station, with a single-lane road between. Even now, an army could be crawling through the field and they'd never know. He was sure they were being watched, though.
"We leave. We ride down the road and regroup and figure out a better game plan. They'll expect us to hit them right away. We wait."
Dying Days: Origins 2 Page 2
