White Flag of the Dead wfotd-1

by Joseph Talluto

  The room was quiet, then Frank raised his hand. Before Nate could explode, I said “Yes, Frank?”

  All eyes turned to Frank and I could see him reveling in the attention. “What if we don’t want to leave?” He asked smugly, as if this was a revelation I missed.

  I decided to burst his bubble. I addressed the group. “Does anyone wish to stay in the school?” No one raised their hand. I could not blame them. We had fought for this place, but it was time to move on and get busy living.

  Frank looked defeated. I had no pity for him, or his new friend. “If you want to stay, you’ll get two weeks of provisions, one firearm, one blunt weapon, and a hearty ‘Good Luck!’” A huge part of me wished he’d stay, but I knew Frank would never be self-reliant. He preferred to live off the work of others. Hence his political career.

  “Okay people. Let’s get to work!”

  19

  The next five days were busy. We spent a lot of time casing the condos, and we had to be on the lookout for roaming bands of zombies as well. There seemed to be an increase in the number of zombies out for a stroll, and I wondered if the ones from the city were finally making it out to the ‘burbs. We got lucky with the first building, as it was relatively empty, just stinky from rotting food. We did find a dead old woman in one of the bedrooms, but it looked like she died of dehydration instead of the virus. We moved five families into the condos, and set them up with provisions. Nate took on the task of securing the water supply, and after an interesting moment with a ghoul in the high grass, declared the water secure.

  Charlie and Sarah were clearing out the second and third buildings, and it was rather entertaining to hear “Heads up!” as another zombie came flying out of a window to smack noisily on the ground below. We figured it was easier to toss them out the windows than drag them down the stairs and make a huge mess. It was tricky, killing them without serious fluid loss, but Charlie and Sarah were pros. Their backup teams were pretty good, too. Funny what it takes sometimes to have a successful career change.

  The weather was getting colder, and I really didn’t notice any difference in zombie movements. They were still trudging along, and there were the occasional faster ones, but nothing out of the ordinary. When you live in a zombie-filled world, that is.

  I was taking the RC (Recon Car) down the interstate, checking on passageways and clearance for vehicles. Martin Oso was with me, but we didn’t talk much. I needed to be able to move a semi truck, so clearance was a priority. Strangely, the freeway was mostly clear, and I was able to make extremely good time. I headed past New Lawrence and towards Joslin. There were more cars on the roadside, and I saw more than one which was occupied by ghouls. They looked to be in pretty sorry shape, having turned near the beginning of the Upheaval and been stuck ever since. One was barely able to lift its head to watch my car go by. Poor Stinky.

  I crossed the river and from my vantage point on the bridge, I could see quite a few zombies wandering the streets of Joslin. They were kept in check by the river, but I was sure they had fanned out to the surrounding countryside. Martin stiffened a bit at the sight of so many zombies, but we were safe on the bridge.

  We rolled past Casino Street, and I was sorely tempted to go take a look, but I had a feeling that place was wiped out by people having one last fling before the end. I spotted my exit and took it, keeping an eye out for the usual problems. Martin was curious as to our destination, since I had kept it from him the whole trip. I pulled up to a high gate, and stopped the car. The whole area was surrounded by a high man made hill, too steep for zombies to navigate and perfect for keeping safe what I considered precious cargo inside. There was a guard shack next to the gate, and a sign that said “NO ENGINE BRAKING” Moving out of the car, I approached the guard shack as Martin scanned the street we had turned off of. No zombies yet, but you could almost feel them coming out of hiding and shuffling in your direction.

  The guard shack was empty and I approached the gate. There was a lock and chain on the gate, and I figured the key was long gone. I pulled out my crowbar and with a few yanks, broke the lock. I threaded the chain through the gate and it made a huge clanking noise. Martin jumped at the sound and there were several answering groans from the area. We had to move fast. I just hoped that I wasn’t jumping into a yard full of zombies.

  I pushed the gate open and Martin hopped back into the car. He drove into the yard and I closed the gate behind the car. I put the chain back and secured it with a karabiner. Easy on, easy off. Just as I secured the gate it pushed violently back at me. I stepped back and looked through the slits. Sure enough, there were five ghouls that wanted to party. Not yet, boys, but I’ll get to you later, I thought. How, I had no idea, but something would come to me.

  Martin got out of the car and looked around. We were in a storage facility for cargo containers, the kind you see stacked by the thousands by docks and rail yards. They were stacked up six high, about as tall as a five story building. There was a container fork truck over on the side, and we were looking at about a thousand containers, and I could see more down the hill. Perfect. All I needed now was a way to move them. There was a small parking lot of trailers to put the containers on, and an old truck ready to roll. Better and better. It would have been great if I had a clue how to drive the fork truck to move the trailers, and even better if I knew how to drive the truck to get them to where they were needed, but I didn’t. I think Charlie knew how to drive one, maybe Tommy, but I wasn’t sure.

  Martin looked around and wondered why I was so happy. “What was the point of coming here? There’s just a bunch of old containers.”

  I enlightened him. “How tall are the containers?” I asked him.

  Martin looked closely. “About eight feet or so”

  “Think a Z can climb one of them?” I asked cryptically.

  Martin looked again. “Not really. Maybe one in a thousand might manage it.”

  “Could you walk on it, patrol on it?” I asked, looking at one nearby.

  Martin finally got it. “A fence! Perfect! And if they tip it over, it still blocks them! Are we taking them back to the condos?” He seemed eager to get started.

  “That we are, Martin, old son, that we are. But first, we need to figure out how to operate the fork truck. I have no illusions about the two of us able to lift one of those things.” I said, pointing to the machine. “That’s your job.”

  Martin grinned and hopped over to the cab of the fork truck. As he opened the door, a zombie fell out and landed on top of him. He shrieked and pushed the Z in the chest, narrowly avoiding snapping jaws. The Z was dressed in overalls and hardhat, and likely turned in the machine. It was pretty well decayed, and its skin slipped and tore off as it struggled to get closer to Martin and he struggled to keep it away from him. They danced back towards me, and I nearly drew my knife when I spotted the towing chain on the ground. I grabbed it up and looping around my hand, I swung it with everything I had at the zombie’s head. He must have been more decayed than I thought, because his head came right off his body and sailed off into the weeds by the office trailer. The headless body dropped immediately, and Martin was nearly taken off balance since the thing still gripped his jacket.

  “Jesus Christ! Where the hell did that guy come from?” Martin asked as he struggled for breath.

  “We better keep an eye out for more.” I said, shifting my weapon to the ready and moving towards the trailer. “See if that thing will start, and if it won’t, jump it from the car. With luck, the gas hasn’t turned bad.”

  I headed over to the trailer and looked through the window. I didn’t see anything, but that didn’t mean squat. I knocked on the door and listened carefully. Sometimes a ghoul will be sitting quiet, and will galvanize at a noise. But I figured if Martin’s shriek hadn’t roused anything, it wasn’t there. I walked away from the trailer and felt something dragging on my foot. I looked down, and saw Martin’s zombie’s head attached to my heel. It had bit my boot heel and hung on like a pit bul
l. I dragged it over to a tire rim and stuck it under the corner of the rim. I rolled the rim over its head and forced it off. It continued to stare and snap at me so I picked up the rim and smashed it down on the head. Its struggles ended immediately.

  I looked back at the fork truck to see Martin staring at me. I shrugged my shoulders and motioned him to try and start the truck. It turned over but didn’t want to catch. He tried it again and it caught for a second then died. On the fourth try, it turned over and stayed running. I jumped up and gave him a thumbs-up. I ran over to the old truck and wondered if we would be lucky again. I tried the engine, but it refused to even turn over. Okay, time for plan B

  I signaled Martin to drive the fork truck over to the side of the truck and see if we could jump the battery. He did, and I retrieved the jumper cables we had in the car. We hooked up the truck and tried to start it again. This time we got turnover, but no dice on the engine starting. I checked the gauges, and realized the truck was out of gas. Martin promptly pushed the truck over to the pump with the fork truck, and I filled the tank, thanking whatever god was still listening that the fuel tank was gravity — fed. I filled the truck and tried starting it again. Imagine my relief when the thing coughed and roared to life. Success!

  We pulled the truck around and attached a trailer. It slid off a couple of times before we figured out how to do it right, and then Martin tried his luck putting a cargo container on top. It fell off the first time, but we got it right the second time. I secured it and turned off the truck. Martin turned off the fork truck and immediately we knew something was wrong.

  There was a lot of noise coming from the gates, and I couldn’t see through the zombies that were pounding on it. Thank God it was made of steel and the chain was holding. I went over to the Office and grabbed the ladder from the side of the trailer and placed it against the containers that were near the gate. Climbing to the top I hauled the ladder up and climbed up the next container. I stepped up the containers like this until I was on the top container that looked out over the gate.

  “Oh, fuck me running.” I said, surveying the scene before me.

  “What do you see?” Martin called up to me. “How many are there?”

  I looked out on a mass of about fifty of the nasty things, all in various states of decay. When they saw me standing on the top of that container, they set up a collective groan and reached for me. They were funneled into a relatively small area, thanks to the design of the yard, but there was no way we were going to get out of here without a fight. I checked the terrain and saw that they couldn’t get in as long as the gate held, but we couldn’t get out either.

  I got back down to the ground and gave Martin the lowdown of the situation. Apparently our riding around had made enough noise to cause the locals to come see who the new neighbors were. Great. If we didn’t deal with this soon, the noise they made was going to attract a whole lot more.

  We could set up on a container and shoot them, but we may as well set up a flare for every zombie within a five mile radius to come a-looking.

  I looked around and took stock of what we had. We could throw fuel on them, but we might need that for the truck. There were some lead pipes over in a corner by the machine shop, and a quick look in the shop showed nothing of use against a horde of the undead. Oh sure, if they stood still long enough we could use the grinders and such, but they seldom were so accommodating.

  Martin came up with the best idea. “Why don’t we drop containers on them? The fork truck can easily lift containers over the gate and we can crush them flat.”

  Brilliant. He went to work and managed to grab a container lengthwise and hold it over the teeming masses. We had a moment when we realized we couldn’t just drop the containers. But Martin remedied that too, when he tipped the forks forward and the container slid off, crushing about twenty of them. Gross fluids squirted out from under the box. Martin went back for another container and repeated the procedure. The zombies had no idea what was happening, and just stood there to be crushed. There were about ten of them left that we couldn’t reach, so I grabbed a length of pipe and rode the fork truck over the gate and onto the containers.

  They were a little lopsided from the goo underneath, but I could still work. The ghouls reached for me and clawed at the top of the container. They couldn’t get a grip, and those that did had no strength to pull themselves up. Perfect. I hefted my pipe and went to work. It was kind of like being at the driving range, in a way.

  Martin hauled me back over and we opened up the gate. There was still movement under the containers, and Martin used the fork truck to push down on the containers. He was getting pretty good with that thing. I swear I could hear popping like bubble wrap, and I didn’t want to know what it was. Martin pushed the containers out of the way, and blocked the road to the south. Greasy goo and body parts covered the driveway, and I was reluctant to drive over that mess time and again. Realizing the necessity, I poured gas into a container and covered the infectious mass.

  Martin and I checked weapons and gear while the zombies fried. When the fires died completely, we got into the vehicles and headed back to the interstate, remembering to lock the gate behind us. We certainly were going to be back. This first container was the first step in securing our new home, and I was happy to get it there.

  As I drove toward the exit, I realized we had no way to get it off the truck. Oh well, we’ll think of something. We always do.

  Even though we had a lot of trips to make, every one would make us more secure. I smiled to myself as the plan started to come together. Next step was moving to the new place, and setting up a second sanctuary. Things were looking good, and I worried more than ever. When things looked good, that was usually when the zombies came and bit your face off.

  20

  It took the best part of four weeks, but we managed to move enough cargo containers to completely encircle the condo complex, the water supply, and the empty acres to the north. I had insisted that one container be placed on its end every ten lengths, to give us a lookout tower. Martin and I spent long hours ferrying cargo containers, and when we managed to get two more trucks running, the process speeded up considerably. As an afterthought, I grabbed the welding supplies from the maintenance shack at the depot, and one of our survivors managed to turn the towers into covered shacks. I thought that was pretty nifty. On one of the return trips, Martin had a burst of inspiration and made a side trip to a boat storage facility. I thought he was nuts until I saw he had managed to secure another big fork truck to help with placing the containers.

  The new fence had a profound effect on the community. People spent long hours outside, and our kids ran freely in the sunshine for the first time in months. It was gratifying to see smiling, running children in the midst of this messed up world. It didn’t matter that it was getting cold, the kids still played and ran. For the first time in a long time, people could let their guard down, if just a little bit. Even Jakey perked up by being outside, and for a kid that was perpetually in a good mood, that was something.

  People were immediately grateful for the change in living arrangements. We had enough condominiums for everyone to have their own, and the privacy this afforded had a positive effect as well. It was a small return to normalcy that two weeks ago would not have been considered possible.

  We still had the occasional zombie wandering around, and they were dealt with pretty quickly. Our barrier was put to the test when a large group of about thirty of them showed up and began attacking the fence. They managed to move a container a few inches before they were stopped, so we decided to add weld points to the containers to prevent that from happening again.

  In all, we had a good thing going at this point and were pretty well set up for the winter. All of the condos had fireplaces, so warmth was not going to be an issue. Nate had a group getting firewood from one of those nearby garden centers that had piled it up before the Upheaval, and they were bringing it back by the truckload.

  With
things pretty well set up, it was time for me to move on to the next part of the plan, which was to set up another safe zone. Nate was going to be left in charge here, and his goal was to expand the fence as much as he could as often as he could. The idea was to cover as much of an area as possible, taking back as much as possible, utilizing natural terrain and land features whenever possible to secure the safe zone. We needed to be self-sustaining for a while, since the zombie’s rate of decay seemed to be up to the individual, we had no choice but to wait a bit. But I was anxious to see about other communities and survivors, and I needed to get going if we were going to have a chance at surviving the winter.

  I had had a meeting a few days before, outlining the plan and asking if anyone was willing to come with Jake and myself. I certainly couldn’t force anyone, and it was going to be difficult for anyone to leave the relative safety of the new community, but I had to ask.

  To my surprise, Sarah agreed to go, along with Charlie and Tommy. Tommy said he would get lonely without me, and Charlie said someone had to watch my dumb ass. Duncan certainly was not going to get left behind without Tommy, and I was secretly glad the three of us were hitting the road again.

  Jason Coleman and his wife Lisa agreed to come with us, and to everyone’s surprise, Kristen Larkin wanted to come with, and her friend Chelsea Forbes wanted to go as well. I could understand it. When the condos were doled out, the girls in the little dorm room had been ‘adopted’ into other families, and I think these two were having the hardest time adjusting. No trouble to me, the more the merrier. I figured Sarah could look after the girls, and they would be well taken care of.

  We spent three days getting ready for the trip, and I was vague as to the details of the location. I knew where I wanted to go, but I didn’t want to get anyone’s hopes up in case the place turned out to be a bust. If it was, I had a small backup plan, but that was for worst-case scenario.