by Lee Ragans
I keyed the radio, “3 to go.”
I watched as the 3 just shot twitched for a while before stopping. It was not like the movies. Dying was a process. It did not just happen all at once. It was anything but clean and anything but pretty.
“So, house to house?” David asked.
Before Josh could answer, the remaining 3 came out. Three-women. They were crying. They had their hands up.
David fired 3 times shooting them in the head. I wanted to be mad. Then I realized why he did it. If we talked to them, we might make a mistake. We had simple rules now. If you or your group threaten us, you all die. If you share we share. If you are indifferent, we are indifferent.
David fired one shot into the head of the reviving dead killed by Josh. The shots to the head ended it.
Josh and I got off the roof.
We met David back at the truck. “Do you think he was telling the truth about how many?” I asked.
“No, but he had a reason to lie. I assume if there is anyone else here they can’t fight. Maybe kids.”
“What do we do?”
“Nothing. We can’t raise the kids. They did this to themselves.”
14
We drove west until nightfall. Small towns were deserted. We turned South and then stopped in a small town that was completely deserted. We found canned food and some boxed foods in the grocery store. It looked to be completely unlooted. On the outskirts of town, we found a small farm. Everyone was gone. We parked the HEMTT behind the house, so it was not visible from the road. Josh wrapped the cable around the steering wheel and then locked it with the lock on the floor. He gave me the key.
“What if something happens to me and you need the key.”
David answered, “If something happens to you we are killing everyone or dying trying. We don’t matter. We only have one of you.”
Josh nodded.
I was at once the worst and sweetest thing I ever heard from them.
We move the food inside and then found the cellar. It was old but well kept. We took stock of everything and then moved a bed to the cellar. Stacking up the food we filled water bottles from the tap. It was well water and ran on a gravity system. The farm had been self-sufficient since the days before electricity.
Looking at everything David declared, “This will be a good place to hide out for the winter. However long that lasts.”
I found some books, the owners had a thing for the classics. If we were going to be here for a few months, I could catch up on my reading. I felt like my brain had gotten weaker. It was time to feed it.
The bathroom in the cellar was small but worked. The lack of a tub meant that if I were going to get really clean, I would have to go upstairs. We never discussed why we needed to be in the cellar. It was David’s idea. I guessed it was safer and easier to defend.
As we sat around the dinner table, I said to them, “I had everything hairy lasered a year ago. It made my life simple. You guys, however, are starting to look like ZZ Top.”
They each stroked their beards. Josh spoke first, “Are you saying you don’t like the mountain man look?”
“I am fine with it, but you have to trim them, or I am going to.”
“Wait, you had laser hair removal?” David asked.
“Did you think I had a lady bic hidden on me and I was shaving my legs, pits, and Foofy every day?”
“Honestly had not thought about it.”
“Typical, oblivious.”
“So glad to know the hours of having my hairs burned off my hooha got so much attention.”
“Oh, it did. Just did not know the details.” Josh said.
David said nothing. He was the prudish of the pair.
15
The rains started, and then the sky darkened. The days were shortening, and the first snow hit just 3 weeks after we made our home at the farm. David pulled out a Geiger counter and said, “Yep. They popped the nukes. We have to stay out of the snow and check the water before we drink it.”
I read and slept, Josh and David worked out, and read. Sometimes we all took turns going up and down the stairs to the second floor to keep out cardio up. It was boring. These days boring was nice.
By mid-December, we were frozen in. West Virgina was not known for mild winters but three feet of snow that stayed for 2 months seemed excessive by any measure. In January we were certain this was an enhanced nuclear winter.
We were all pasty white by spring and Josh, and David was grumpy. I was depressed. The first day it crossed 50 degrees we went up to the top floor. The Geiger counter did not scream. David said, “We should avoid digging. The surface dirt is probably hot.”
I had no intention of digging, but I guess it was just one of those things they always thought about. They were planning again. That was good.
David said looking out the window, “We should wait another month to be sure the snow is done.”
I did a quick mental accounting of our food. We had enough to stay put for another 6 months, but I was going to lose my shit if I ate any more mac and cheese. Well, not lose my shit. The high processed cheese diet had already had an effect on my colon. I was the slow lane. If they notice that I was lactose intolerant neither of my husbands complained. Though I was with two of the most tight-lipped creatures on the planet. They were the living embodiment of the word stoic.
I was doing pull-ups from the cellar rafters when Josh started talking, “I miss baseball.”
“Yeah. Me too.” David said.
I added, “I miss ballparks full of people.”
“I hear ya,” Josh said.
“I wonder if the last ballgame has been played forever.” David wondered.
“That is unusually deep for you.” I snarked while pulling myself up.
“I am smarter than you give me credit. But what I mean is, will the human race every play baseball again? I figure we will overcome this in a few years. Maybe 10 or 20 at the most. Will we ever do the things we did before?”
“That is deep,” Josh said.
“Okay, let’s consider it a thought problem. Let’s lay it out.” I wiped off the sweat and sat down. “The rules are written down, but most of the recordings of the game being played are digital. So, with no servers to show it, they are gone.”
“There are people like us who remember it,” Josh said.
“Sure, that is the more likely scenario. I think people like us will want to play the game and will find old equipment and teach the kids how to play.”
“Kids?” David asked.
“Well not mine, yet. That is not happening while we are running. Maybe not ever with the nukes.”
“Okay, so when everything settles down I want to get the gear together and play baseball,” Josh said.
“I am good with that,” David said.
There in that cellar we mad plans for the future. They were stupid, but they were plans.
“I don’t see anyone playing baseball here in West Virginia.”
“No, I think we should go back to Atlanta. I always was a Braves fan. Watched them on TV growing up.” Josh said.
“As good a place as any,” David replied.
With that, we had a goal and a destination. Play baseball in Atlanta. I looked at them and asked, “So you think we can get this beast in the parking deck of our Parkside condo?”
David smiled, “Should just fit.”
We waited another month and then headed South. There were far more dead on the roads than before. It was obvious that they were moving, and whatever survivors there had been were now losing the fight and joining the hordes.
16
We drove into the city and intentionally took a path to keep us away from the W hotel. Coming up from the park we were able to back the HEMTT into the parking deck and then slide a car in to block the door. We locked the steering column anyway, and they gave me the key. It was late spring, and I did not want to wear anything with pockets, much less carry a key with me. I took David dog tags and put the key on it
. Then put it around my neck.
Our home had been visited but not disturbed. We rescued the stairwell and spent a few hours checking every room. Two dead were in a condo two floors down. What had been a man and a woman had no obvious signs of trauma, they died of disease or starvation. I killed the woman with my knife, while David put the man down with his own knife. We checked the pockets of the clothes they had on and tossed the bodies from the balcony toward the park. They did not make it to the road.
Their gear was light, just a parka and a few camping items.
“Damn shame,” I said.
“Not really. They did not find our food. That is good.” David said.
“You really are an asshole. I want to feel bad for them.”
“No reason to. They just had crappy luck. We have had good luck.”
“I want to be mad at you.”
“But you can’t be. I am right.”
We pulled out some of our food and made ourselves at home again. It was nice. It felt almost normal. We maintained light discipline. The first night I spent the evening watching our friends at the W. Exercise guy was not in sight. The guy, the girl, and the autist were visible. She was chubbier. Then I realized she was pregnant.
“Hey guys, the exercise guy is gone, and the girl is preggers.”
“Well, bad for him and good for her. I guess.” Josh said.
“How long are we going to not let them know we are here?”
“I would say forever. I trust them, but what if they get overrun. We don’t need them telling someone where we are.”
“I get it. It just feels wrong.”
“I guarantee that guy Brian, the autistic one knows we are here. Well not us, but someone. He sees everything, just does not process it.” David said.
“I wonder what happened to your friend?” Josh asked.
“Who, oh… yeah.”
After a month the horde hit. This one did not leave. It looked like two hordes or more collided. One coming south, one going north. And they just stopped.
The noise was awful. The smell was worse. We closed the windows and kept our time outside to a minimum. I slept with headphones pushed over my ears. I would wake up when they came off, but It helped me sleep.
We made it through the summer and then as winter hit the horde froze. It made it easy to move around.
We got to the office building next to us and up to the roof. I used a bullhorn from a police car and signaled the hotel. They let us know they could hold out for 8 months. That was good. We had no idea what do to do to help them or ourselves if it went much longer.
We went back to our home and hunkered down.
David was sending daily messages on the sat phone, and the replies were more and more cryptic every day.
He looked up and said, “It is a bot. Some kind of AI. Probably NSA crap.”
“What?”
“I have been sending messages every day that should get some kind of response, but not once did the person reply with an army, or CIA style reply. Always the same, always 12 seconds after I send. This thing must have solar power or nuclear power. It will never tell us where it is.”
“Shit.” Was all the response Josh could muster.
“So that is why you have been trying. You were hoping to get some info.” I said.
“Yep. You knew I could not let it go.” He handed me the hand charger and said, might as well use this to charge an iPod for those headphones. No need to keep this thing charged anymore.
I had used the hand charger once to charge an iPod we found. I thought they did not notice. The crappy thing was the iPod had nothing but country music. I may be from the south, but I was not a fan of country. Now it was all that was left.
17
I watched and then realized they were up to something. The Hotel gang executed an amazing plan. The autistic guys when down and pulled the zombies away and must have opened up the fuel truck. Dan stayed on the roof and shot. They started a giant fire under the interstate overpass, and the flames consumed and pulled the dead into the killing oven formed by the cement overpass.
It burned for days and cleared out the horde. It was amazing.
I looked at David and Josh and said, “You shit heads did not think of that.”
“Nope. That was some good thinking on his part.” David said.
“I would not have done it. I would have tried to keep the fuel.” Josh said.
“I guess they were more desperate than we were,” I said.
“They have not seen as much. This is their home they are fighting for.” David observed.
“This is our home now,” I said.
“Sure. Why not.”
We made it across to the hotel and checked on them. They had a baby, and they told us about the woman and her kid that killed their friend. I was intrigued by the story of the doctors and soldiers that had a cure.
Josh was skeptical about a cure. He said if they had one it would have been found in the early days of the outbreak.
We hunted and gathered. We traded things we found with W hotel crew. They traded fresh crops. They had herbs, carrots, tomatoes, and potatoes growing. It was life. We had what we had.
David and Josh watched the two caches, and no one else ever came. Val asked me if it was us in the condo. I said it was best to not know who was there. She grasped that we were their guardian angels, but it was not something to discuss.
We made a life. Things got better, but they got a lot worse first. That is another story.
Carter’s Tale
0
Things fell apart slowly. You expect things to go from news story to riots to everyone dead when you think of zombies, but it was slow. It took months not hours for the world to grind to a halt. Everyone in Metro Atlanta drank water from Lake Lanier in one way or another. What-ever killed them and carried the disease started there for Atlanta.
Carter was sure it was a government conspiracy to get people rounded up in camps. That is what he posted on
UFOWatch.org. It looked like the typical way people were rounded up. At least that is what Jesse said. Carter watched and yearned for Art Bell, but he was nowhere to be found.
Carter did not drink the water. He was certain it was tainted. He used a reverse osmosis filter on rainwater he collected from the roof of his apartment building. The maintenance people kept closing over the rain catch, but he fixed it each night. He was safe.
On day 14 the power went out. Carter did not bother with work anymore. No one did. Things were falling apart, who cared if there was a security guard on duty. The phone died hours after the power the power and social networking was over.
The small apartment was filled with supplies, food, water, and ammo. Most people were gathering pistols, Carter had 15 crates of 12-gauge shotgun ammo and 4 shotguns. He was safe on the 12th floor. His neighbors had left days ago to run to camps for safety. At night he listed and could hear thumping from 4 doors down. He knew it was one of them, but it was inside an apartment and not getting out.
He had seen the dead walk on TV before it went out. Then he saw a police officer shoot one in the street. It was still laying there. Everyone was afraid to touch it.
On day 21 the city was now mostly silent. People had run for the mountains or the burbs. Some went to camps. The camp near the Interstate was full now. At night Carter could see the people moving around the camp at night under artificial lights. The thumping was worse from 4 doors down. The thing had managed to find some spot to get stuck and was thrashing about.
Shotgun in hand Carter kicked in the door 4 doors down.
Well, he tried to kick it in. Instead, his foot went through the middle, and he fell. Leg stuck through the newly made hole. He shot the wall for no good read and struggled. Just before he got his leg free, he felt the bite.
Pulling his leg free, he looked at his bleeding leg and screamed. Standing on one good leg and one bleeding leg he fired through the new hole at the undead on the other side. One of the shots worked, and it s
topped moving.
Carter limped back to his apartment leaving a small trail of blood. He sat down in his tub and washed the bite clean. He poured hydrogen peroxide on it and then he took the step of cauterizing the wound with a small blow torch. When he woke up from the pain, he turned off the torch and made it to his bed.
He left the bed one more time to secure the door with a heavy reinforced 2x4. He was starting to sweat, so he stripped out of his clothes and lay on top of the sheet. Sleep took him quickly.
