by R. J. Spears
Despite the letdown that we would not be going on to her family’s farm, Kara let out a gasp. Naveen and Madison sat forward and leaned onto the backs of our seats.
“What is this place?” Madison asked in a soft voice.
“I’m not sure,” Kara said. “But I think we’ll be staying here. At least for now.”
“Wow, look they have a pool,” Naveen said in way that only kids can -- enthusiastic despite the circumstances. She and Madison started chattering excitedly as I followed the caravan to a gate, with what looked like two improvised guard towers. Men with rifles peered down at us from their perches. Hub waved and another set of men on the ground came and opened the gate, letting the first car in.
A subtle and appropriate, yet unavoidable billboard sat beside the main gates. It advertised, “The Manor -- Opening in May.” Underneath these bold words were a smaller set of text in a delicate yet refined font stating what the place was all about, “A Luxury Conservatory for Senior Living.” As I would learn, it was posh. The place had every conceivable convenience and amenity. With the trajectory of my pre-apocalypse life I would have been lucky to retire there working as a pool boy.
After getting all the cars through the gate, we all disembarked and our group stumbled, stunned by our good fortune. I moved near Greg who was talking with Hub. Greg filled Hub in all that had happened at the church. Hub’s face followed through a succession of expressions as they heard about the marauders, nomads, and finally our encounter with a rogue army.
“So, you’re sure it was best to leave the church?” Hub asked.
“There’s really no choice,” Greg said. “At least not for us,” he added pointing back to our refugee group. “It was just too badly damaged. Besides, there was a good chance we’d have a food shortage by spring. No matter how much we loved that old church, it wasn’t a long term solution.”
“What about the ones that stayed?”
“We tried to convince them that they should leave with us, but they didn’t see it that way.”
“That’s a shame. We have plenty of room here.”
“What’s the story here?” Greg asked.
“Travis, get over here,” Hub shouted. “He was the lead contractor responsible for this project.” There was no small sense of pride in his voice.
Travis Underhill could have come straight out of GQ for lumberjacks. He had ruggedly handsome features and all the understated can-do attitude of his father only with a modern aire. He broke away from a small group of men and made his way over to us, shaking hands with each one of us, exchanging names and remembering each one of ours with the skill of a polished politician. His handshake was the handshake of a “real man,” not my wet noodle grip. He spent an extra moment when he greeted Kara, and I felt a twinge of something inside but ignored it.
“We started this project over two years ago,” he said, gesturing back to the complex. “As you probably saw, we were scheduled to open this past spring, but...well, anyone still alive knows why that didn’t happen. I was at the home office up north when the Outbreak hit, and it took some time to make it back down here. Some of my crew came down with me. We were able to break mom and dad free from a small army of zombies and headed here. We’ve made some modifications that have served us well. Do you mind walking with me?”
“Can we get our people inside?” Greg asked.
“Sure. Mike, Dave. Can you get these people inside and get them set-up in rooms?
Two burly guys came over and ushered the bulk of our group inside. Most of our people were still in a quiet state of shock and shuffled in like lambs. Greg, Kara, and I walked the parameter of the complex with Travis in the lead as he gave us the tour. Hub followed along, keeping a watchful eye on the horizon. The place was designed in a large rectangle that he kept referring to as a quad design. He explained that the company wanted it opulent, but also safe as the designer and investors were targeting upscale retirees. The “quad design” focused all attention inwards toward the expansive courtyard. That was purposeful because as senility crept in for some of the residents, they didn’t want them wandering off into the countryside. The inward facing design helped contain any wanderers and the outer fences were the last line of defense. During the tour he also detailed what they had done to fortify the place in the wake of an attack.
Large, artless, concrete barriers had been placed across the larger openings in the complex, blocking any easy entryways for the undead. Exterior top corner rooms in each of the complex buildings had been turned into observation areas. As we passed these, we could see men with rifles and binoculars watching the countryside for any signs of trouble.
After a tour around the exterior, Travis led us inside the quadrangle. The interior courtyard met that opulent criteria, making me think of a Las Vegas casino and not a place where old codgers hung out. It came complete with a large activity building and a near Olympic-sized pool. It housed several industrial strength generators.
“The designers and backers spared no expense,” he said as his tour came to an end at the back of the complex overlooking the golf course. “They also wanted off-the-grid redundancy as much as possible. Being remote, there’s always the possibility of losing power. We had generators installed as backup, but we only run those a few hours a day. The place is entirely heated with geothermal, so we’re good to stay warm this winter. All the water comes from our well.”
“It sounds like they thought of everything,” Kara said.
“Except for the zombie apocalypse,” I said.
“Well, yes,” Travis said with a wry smile. “Except that, but with the modifications, it’s a pretty good setup.”
“Have you had any problems with larger numbers of zombies?” Greg asked.
Any good humor left Travis’ face. “Follow me,” he said.
We walked out through an opening at the back of the complex and across the heavily weeded golf course, following large ruts in the ground. These ruts headed up and over a hill and past the third hole where a bulldozer sat facing away from us at the edge of a large drop off. After being in the country away from the smell of the dead and the undead, my sense of smell had become accustomed to breathing fresh, unblemished air. The stink of decay assaulted us like a wave and a hitch entered my stride, but I continued on past the bulldozer with the rest of our small group.
“We’ve had three, no, four major assaults from groups of zombies and fought them off. We get a few wandering individuals a couple times a week. They’re easy to take care of. This is where we put them. “
There were hundreds of bodies in the wide depression off hole three. Most showed signs of gunshot wounds to the head and some had torso shots. Some were burned and some were just in parts -- legs, arms, torsos. Men, women, children. We had seen it before, but you never really were able to wrap your mind around it. You had to bend your understanding of the world to allow for it.
“We wanted to burn them, but decided we shouldn’t waste the fuel,” Travis said.
“What about problems with humans?” Greg asked.
Hub answered this one. “As you can tell, we have the highway covered with spotters and we have guards on duty all day long in the observation posts. We’ve had some bad elements show up and try to get in, but we’ve convinced them otherwise.”
“How often does that happen?” I asked.
“Not too often,” Hub answered. “We’re far enough off the highway that most people don’t venture off. The prison’s just three miles that way,” he said, pointing northward. “We keep thinking we’d see some prisoners, but we haven’t.”
“Have you gone up there and checked things out? Checked for any supplies?” Greg asked.
“We’re not that big, in terms of numbers. It’s just my family and some the boys that work for Travis. It seemed like too big of a risk. Maybe with your group we can check it out.” Hub took off his cowboy hat and scratched at a bristle cut of gray hair. “You folks are probably tired from the trip, we should get you inside a
nd find you some rooms.”
The people at the manor greeted us with open arms and fed us the first hot food we’d had in days. It was just spam and powdered eggs, but it was delicious. While it wasn’t all that impressive in terms of culinary inventiveness, sitting around with this group of people satisfied more than our need for food, it affirmed our brotherhood in the community of man. When I looked around the table I saw some of the first smiles from our group since before the battle at the church.
After dinner, we moved in all the supplies from the vehicles. It was all inside in less than two hours. Hub and Travis marveled at the firepower we brought with us -- assault rifles, grenades, and even four rocket-propelled grenade launchers. All this plus cases of ammo. Even with this impressive array of weapons, Greg still fretted that we hadn’t brought more.
I was exhausted after we had settled our small group inside, but guard duty was a still a must so I volunteered for the first shif,t. Hub and his group tried to talk us out of it, but we insisted on doing our fair share.
The night air was chilled as I walked the perimeter. The few lights on the inside each of the rooms winked out as people bedded down.
After making my first circuit around the complex, I spotted Greg on sentry duty near the gate. His breath formed steam with each exhalation. Despite any fatigue he might be feeling, he stood ramrod straight and seemed more alert than me. He turned to take me in as I approached.
“Anything to report?” he asked.
“No, with exception of some coyotes howling at the moon,” I said.
“Ahhh, we’ll see more of them with less of our kind around.”
“So, your theory is that we’ve kept them at bay?” I asked.
“I’m not a zoologist, but I’ve seen one on TV.”
I chuckled. “Well, Greg, you made a joke. I didn’t think you had it in you.”
“Not a whole lot of humor going around.”
“No, not really.”
We stood in silence for a few seconds. One of my coyote friends let out a long baleful howl that carried for miles on the moist, night air. A shiver went up my spin, but I tried not to show it.
“They give me the willies, too,” Greg said. There was another pregnant pause but he continued. “We should have left the church much sooner,” Greg said glassing the horizon with a pair of night goggles. “I thought of moving us out a month before the marauders came. Pastor Stevens was pushing me to make it happen.”
“Pastor Steven wanted us to leave? That’s unbelievable.”
“Yeah,” he said dropping the goggles from his eyes looking over to me. “He said we were too attached to the place. It locked us to the past when we needed to move on to the future.”
“I couldn’t have left,” I said and Greg gave me a surprised look. The sound of footsteps crunching on gravel came from behind us. We both gripped out guns, turning toward the noise. We both relaxed when Kara broke out of the shadows with two cups in her hand.
“They made coffee,” she said hoisting up two steaming cups in the air. “I thought you two could use some to stay up.”
“That I could,” I said. I hadn’t been a coffee guy before the zombie apocalypse, but I sure was now.
“Thanks Kara,” Greg said taking one of the cups.
“Did you know that Pastor Stevens wanted us to leave the church?” I asked Kara.
“Yes,” she said. “He had talked about some long term plans.”
I shook my head. “I’m always the last to know.”
“You’re always on the outside looking in,” she said nudging my arm playfully.
“So, why didn’t we leave?” I asked.
“Like a lot of us, I couldn’t let go of the church,” he said. “We had lost so much and losing one more thing seemed too much to bear even when I knew deep down that in the long run we’d have to eventually leave.”
“I felt the same way,” Kara said. “But I guess God didn’t give us a lot of choices after the marauders came. What it comes down to it, the important thing is that He’s here. You know it, Greg.”
Greg nodded.
They exchanged knowing glances and, as usual, I felt like the odd man out, but in truth, I understood. I’m not a hundred percent sure if God directed us here or not, but it looks like we had found a new home.
A Note from the Author to Readers
First, let me express my gratitude to you for reading my book. Writing a book is a long journey that ends with you as the reader. It is my deepest hope as an author that you enjoyed the book. I only ask that you consider writing a review of the book on Amazon. As an independent author, reviews are the lifeblood of my future success. Thanks again.
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Table of Contents
PROLOGUE
CHAPTER 1 The Horde - Part I
CHAPTER 2 In the Beginning
CHAPTER 3 The Horde - Part II
CHAPTER 4 The Outsider
CHAPTER 5 A Real Horror Story
CHAPTER 6 Old Fashioned Trickery
CHAPTER 7 High Tension
CHAPTER 8 The Way We Live Now
CHAPTER 9 Home Invasion
CHAPTER 10 The Bus
CHAPTER 11 Marauders
CHAPTER 12 Shootout
CHAPTER 13 The Plane
CHAPTER 14 Turf War
CHAPTER 15 Field Trip
CHAPTER 16 Nomads
CHAPTER 17 The Eighth Circle
CHAPTER 18 Heaven or Hell
CHAPTER 19 Redemption
CHAPTER 20 Interloper
CHAPTER 21 The Bridge
CHAPTER 22 Remnants of the Fire
CHAPTER 23 When It Rains, It Pours
CHAPTER 24 Rendezvous
CHAPTER 25 Reunion
CHAPTER 26 Siege
CHAPTER 27 Face-Off
CHAPTER 28 The Library
CHAPTER 29 Showdown
CHAPTER 30 Sanctuary From the Dead
CHAPTER 31 On the Road
CHAPTER 32 A New Home
