by TW Gallier
"Listen," Mike whispered.
I stopped and took off my helmet. There was banging off in the middle distance. It sounded like someone pounding on a door. After a few minutes it stopped.
"I bet there's a house over there," Mike said. "We might find food or shelter."
"Too early for that," I said.
"It might be a hunter's house, with weapons and ammo," he said.
After a moment's thought, I shook my head. "Too early. Too dangerous."
Continuing onward, we were forced to veer more to the south by the terrain. Soon after that, we came upon a highway. There were a butt ton of zombies on that road. I led us back deeper into the woods, and straight south.
"If we are going in the same direction as them, it is less likely we'll stumble upon any of them," I said. At least that's how I justified it. "But we need to keep looking for a place to break through to the east."
It was rough country. There was enough forest to keep us concealed most of the time, but we were forced to cross roads and open fields more often than we liked. Every couple of hours we shifted our loads. Everyone took their turn carrying a pack, and also the SAW. Whoever had to carry the SAW was relieved of a pack. Mike carried the SAW after Charlie, and then it was my turn.
Oddly enough, it was the M-249 SAW that was the pain in the ass to carry. It was bulky and heavy, and you had your personal weapon across your back at the same time. And honestly, I'd rather use my M-4 Carbine than the SAW if it came to a fight with zombies.
"House," Mike whispered, dropping to a knee. He was in the lead. I was carrying the SAW between them in line. "Y'all want to check it out?"
I could barely see it through the trees. The underbrush became thicker near the clearing around the house. The forest was beginning to grow darker. The sky above still looked bright. My legs, back and shoulders believed it was near the end of day.
"If it's empty, it might be a good place to spend the night," I whispered.
Moving closer, we studied it as we walked. About halfway to it, Mike stepped on a branch. That snap echoed through the woods.
Zombies came running out of the house. It looked like a family of five, including children from early teens to grade school. I gasped, gawking at the youngest boy. He looked so much like my son Harlan.
Mike, then Charlie opened fire. I just stood there and watched that little boy's head all but explode when high-powered rounds struck it. The look of childish rage never left his face. My friends slaughtered them in nothing flat.
"That went well," Mike said. He looked at me just standing there. "Are you alright, man?"
"Shit," Charlie cried, spinning around. "Here come some more!"
"They're attracted to gunfire," I said as I turned. The new zombies gave me something to concentrate on beside that poor little boy. The newcomers were a bunch of late teen white boys in cutoffs, no shirts, and barefoot. My first thought was they died at the swimming hole. "Die!"
Bringing the SAW to my shoulder, I did my best to aim and fire short bursts. It was damned hard to keep it under a dozen rounds every time I pulled the trigger. My training taught me that only the first couple of rounds hit the target, the rest were wasted.
The zombies reached us before we could kill them all. I stepped into the first one to close with me, and thrust the SAW's butt into his face with all my strength. He went down. I ducked under the next one's attempt to tackle me, stopped to pump a few rounds into him and the first zombie. Mike shot the next zombie to threaten me in the head, and I returned the favor when two more charged him. Charlie killed three during our short melee.
"Fuck it, man," Mike cried. "Fuck it. That was close."
"I hear more coming," Charlie said.
"Follow me," I whispered, taking off at a slow jog away from the house.
I swear, I could hear the zombies turned towards us. From the noise they made stomping through the woods, there had to be a hundred or more. A million leapt into my mind.
"Five at three o'clock!" Mike called.
I looked right and spotted them. They were on an intercept course.
"Keep going," I called, stopped and aimed. As Mike and Charlie went past me, I opened up at head level. All five dropped. Two of them got back up. When I tried to fire them up, I got nothing. I was out of ammo. "Son of a bitch."
I pulled off my M-4, while slinging the SAW. By that time a dozen zombies were almost on top of me. I'd never run so fast in my life. I caught up with my friends, passed them, and called back for them to follow me.
The ground was rising all day, but shortly started to angled down. I soon heard the sound of water. Moments later we came upon a rain swollen creek.
"Get across!"
Charlie waded across first. The water rose up to his waist. I held my breath because the flow was pretty fast. Mike followed, and was helped out by Charlie. I popped off a few rounds into charging zombies, and followed them.
"Damn, that's cold," I gasped. The water really pushed me hard. I had to lean into the current, but slowly waded across. Mike and Charlie each grabbed an arm to drag me out of the creek. "Let's see if they come across."
We hurried up the hill, but not so fast. We held back just a bit to see if the zombies really would give up the chase rather than wade across running water. And they turned upstream. Not a one of them even looked like he wanted to try and wade across.
"That's weird," Mike said.
"Thank God is the proper response," I said.
We continued until well past sunset. After crossing a cow pasture, we came upon a burned down farmhouse. The fire looked recent. There was a rather decrepit looking barn, with faded and flaking red paint. It was empty, but there was moldy hay in the loft. We had to find a ladder to access it.
After ensuring we had more than one way out of that loft, we pulled up the ladder and dropped our loads.
"Mike, you take the first guard shift. Wake me in two hours," I said. By me taking the second shift, the other two could get four hours of uninterrupted sleep. "Charlie, you take the last shift. After that, we'll hit the road again."
Chapter 29
"Wake up, bitch!" Vince screamed, kicking me in the ribs.
I've been rudely awakened before, but that was the worse. For a second I couldn't remember where I was or what was happening. Rolling away from the attack, I managed to scramble up on one knee and look around.
I was in the woods, on the side of a mountain. Two men loomed over me. The younger was bloody, but the older man looked a lot scarier. He had murder in his eyes.
"You lied to us," Nolan screamed. "You set us up."
"You got my boys killed, bitch," Vince snarled. He had my 30-30 in hand. "I warned you. Now you are going to pay." He made a motion with the rifle. "Stand up and strip."
"We going to teach you a lesson in respect, bitch," Nolan said, eyes narrow and filled with fury. "And then we're gonna kill your ass."
I rose to my feet, hands outward. Backing up, I shook my head and tried to think of anything to delay their retribution. My friends had to be looking for me. I just needed time.
"I didn't lie," I said. "You know I don't have any control over what they do. I was just as shocked as you when they refused to trade for me."
"They killed my boys," Vince said, soft and menacingly. "I'm going to take it out of your ass, Jenny Boo."
"You know, I don't really like that name," I said. They were going to kill me anyway. "We can still work something out between us."
I took another step back. They advanced two steps. Nolan was unarmed, so he'd been hurt so badly that he lost his weapon. I noticed his right arm was hanging limp, and it was drenched in blood. Vince only had my rifle left, so lost his own as well. Sean and the others must have really overwhelmed the Mahans.
"How did y'all get me away from my friends?"
Sean was a friggin Marine. He should've killed all four of them with his bare hands. While Bill might've been over his head, I hunted and patrolled with the other men and I respe
cted their ability to fight. Their bravery was unquestioned. So how did Vince and Nolan escape? More important, how did they escape carrying me?
"We're mountain men," Vince said. "Ain't no city boys able to keep up with us."
"Well, that's just dandy," I said. "You want to point that gun somewhere else?"
"I said take your clothes off."
I'd hoped he'd forgotten about that. My blood ran cold. What was worse? Raped and then surviving? Or shot dead? I was kind of leaning toward the latter.
When I hesitated, Vince surged forward. I instantly knew by the way he was holding the rifle that he wanted to butt-stroke me. Dropping into a defensive stance, I held my breath and waited. At the last second, I ducked and shifted to the side. That left him wide open.
"Damn you," I cried when I kicked him between the legs.
He twisted just enough that I failed to get a solid hit. I shoved him, and then tried to twist the 30-30 out of his hands. Vince was too strong, so I released the rifle and made a run for it. Nolan cut me off.
"Halt!" Vince cried.
I grabbed Nolan's limp arm, twisted, and moved around him as she screamed bloody murder. A rifle shot echoed through the mountain air a second later. Nolan's eye got huge, and then he screamed again.
"You shot me!"
I made Nolan squeal like a gut stuck pig by savagely twisting his arm. Bone popped, but I wasn't sure if it was a break or a dislocation. He dropped to the ground, which left me open to Vince's fire. So I released and darted to the side.
And ran into another man.
"Let me go," I cried, struggling. He opened wide, and then clamped his teeth down on my shoulder. That's when I noticed his crazy eyes and bloody body. "Zombies!"
I dropped my weight and twisted, breaking free of his grasp. The zombie stumbled over me. Checking my shoulder, I was relieved to see he failed to break the skin. It still hurt like crazy. And then I noticed more zombies struggling up the mountainside.
"Run!"
Vince was cussing a blue streak. He fired and fired, until the rifle was out of ammo. Nolan screamed. I saw two zombies on top of him, biting his arms and neck. His father then went down as four zombies piled on top of him. My rifle went flying off to the side.
"Jesus! Help me!" I cried, and took off running straight to that dropped rifle. I had more ammo in my pockets. "Stay away from me!"
More zombies turned toward me. I snatched up the 30-30 at a dead run. Well, as fast as I could run uphill, anyway. I already had a round in hand, which I loaded as I turned back toward home.
"Die!" I screamed, stopping just long enough to aim and shoot the closest zombie in the head.
I learned real fast that the zombies were just a little faster. They didn't seem to tire, while I was quickly exhausted. Managing to load the rifle, I jumped behind a boulder and started picking them off as they struggled up the mountain after me.
"Sweet Jesus," I cried when I shot the last one. I only had one round left. "What a nightmare." Then I noticed movement. Another one was coming up after me. "Oh no."
It was Vince. Well, what used to be Vince Mahan, at least. His left hand was mangled, missing at least two fingers. His lower lip was half ripped off, and his nose was missing. But it was his eyes that held the true horror. They were filled with zombie rage.
I used my last shot on him.
There was no way to know if there were any more zombies coming. Turning toward home, I moved as fast as my bruised and battered body would permit. It had to have taken me a good hour or more before I finally heard men shouting. I didn't recognize the voices, but called out for help. If they weren't my friends, well, I'd just have to deal with them.
I sat down to wait. I couldn't go another step.
Chapter 30
"What does that sign say?" Mike pointed to the east. "Is that a highway sign?"
I had no idea what he meant. All signs on a highway were highway signs.
We looked both ways to ensure there were no witnesses, and then crossed the wide road. We were in mostly open country. Farm country. There were homes along the road. That was the largest east-west road we'd come upon so far.
"Route 22," Charlie said. He pointed further up the road. "According to that sign Union City is the next town."
I pulled out our road map and found Union City. "Great. We're in Tennessee now."
We argued over the map a few. I wanted to go around the small city. Mike and Charlie wanted to go in. They had a pretty good argument, too. Food.
"I'm starving, man," Mike said. "Maybe we can refill our canteens, too."
Water was still running in most of the houses we came upon. None of us knew how much longer that would last. Just thinking about running water made me long for a hot shower. We'd spend the previous night in that damned hay loft, which left me feeling itchy.
"Cities have zombies," I said.
"We have guns," Mike returned.
"Not that simple," I said. My stomach growled. It was so tempting. "I'm hungry, too, but is it worth the risk? There are houses around the outskirts of the city."
"Yes, but there are actual stores in the city," Charlie said. "I vote we go in, but if we see the zombie population is too high, we turn around and follow Roger's advice."
That was a compromise I could live with, mostly because I was about to be outvoted. So using as much cover as we could find, we headed toward Union City. The closer we got, the hungrier I became. Just outside of town we came upon a convenience store that hadn't been looted.
It was locked up with steel bars over the windows, but we were able to jimmy the back door open. The stench was nauseating. We found out why real quick. Dead meat. Not human, but beef, pork, chicken, and whatnot. The store had a small butcher shop within.
We found sodas, loaves of bread, peanut butter, and jelly on the shelves. The three of us ran through the store grabbing what we wanted in a mad rush, while trying to hold our breaths. It was tough, but rewarding. I even snatched up a big meat cleaver.
We sat under a tree behind the store and enjoyed our meal. That PB&J sandwich was so delicious that I had two more. The bread amazed me. Even after almost two weeks it was fresh. I wondered what kind of chemicals they were using to make it last so long.
We also ate chips, while washing it all down with the soft drinks of our choice. I popped the caps on a coke, grape soda, and a root beer. All I needed was a sip or two from each.
"Lord, even in the middle of the apocalypse we're wasteful of food," I said, and then burped. "I'm glad y'all talked me into this."
Three shots rang out. It sounded deeper in the city, and came from a high-powered rifle. Not an immediate threat to us, but Union City was not completely abandoned. In many ways other survivors frightened me more than zombies.
"Keep the peanut butter and jelly," Charlie said. "Put it in a pack. Put the bread on top so we don't crush it."
"Glad to see you have your priorities in order," I said, as I put that precious treasure in the blue pack.
"Of course," Mike said and signed gustily.
I followed his line of sight to the back of the store, and three zombies. Three middle-aged white men. One had long gray hair and beard, like he was an old hippie zombie. They spotted us and charged with open mouths and rage filled eyes.
"Try out your cleaver," Mike said. "There's only three of them."
"Only three? It only takes one bite," I said. Still, he had a point. Now was the best time to see if I could use it as a weapon against them. "Okay. Let's divide and conquer."
Standing our ground, we waited for the zombies to reach us. At the last second we scattered. One of the zombies fell down, another ran into the tree, and the last just looked confused for a second. The lone standing one turned on us and attacked.
Mike and Charlie moved away from me, but stayed close enough to help. The zombie locked his intentions on me. Bracing myself for a fight, cleaver in hand, I waited for him to reach me. A roundhouse to the head left him dazed and staggering. I mov
ed behind him, and swung the cleaver with all of my might. I didn't take his head off, like I intended, but I severed the spine just above his shoulders.
The zombie went down and stayed there. He was finally dead.
"That's why all good zombie slayers use a katana," Mike said. "Cleaner cuts, and the head comes off every time."
"You're a funny man," I said. Looking past my friends, I saw the other two zombies coming at us. "Shoot them."
Two shots, and two more dead zombies. Unfortunately, I think we stirred up others. A soulful wail rose up from the road. We grabbed the packs and took off behind the houses. Charlie led the way, Mike in the middle with the SAW, and me bringing up the rear. I heard some of them around us, pounding on doors.
"Oh, Jesus," Charlie cried.
He stopped. We ran up to either side of him. The sight before us was horrific. Five zombies, two of which were children, were devouring a dead body. One little girl, who didn't look more that five, was gnawing on the small intestines.
Even stranger, they barely gave us a look.
"Follow me," I said, taking off running. We crossed a residential street, and were spotted by other zombies. "Faster!"
We jumped a five-foot chain link fence, raced across another yard, and turned toward the main road again. Route 22 went exactly where I wanted to go – south by southeast. It would get me closer to Chattanooga, while avoiding the big city of Nashville. I didn't want to lose that road.
Hearing them before we reached Route 22, I turned behind a rather new looking steel building. The sign over the closed bay doors indicated it was an auto repair shop. I found an open door in back, and led the others inside. And then gently closed and locked the door.
Seconds later I heard zombies outside the door. One of them tried the knob, and then pounded on it. He pounded on it for so long I started to worry they knew we were inside, but then they stopped and we could hear them wandering off.
"That was close," Charlie said. "Maybe Roger's right and we should go around Union City."
