by TW Gallier
"What do you want from us?" he asked.
"Nothing, sir," I said. "We just want to go home."
"Um," Mike offered. "If there's someone in town who could patch or replace our flat tires that would be awesome."
He looked at Mike, then Charlie. The mayor stepped deeper into the church, shaking his head. I thought he'd puke at any second. He looked that sick. Finally, he looked me over.
"Consider it done," he said. "It'll take a little bit, so you have time to clean up and change."
"We don't have any changes of clothes," I said.
"We can take care of that, too," Mayor Wilkinson said. "It's the least we can do for the men who freed us from the Hell's Soldiers motorcycle gang."
"A hot meal would be nice, too," Charlie said. "I mean, if you're taking suggestions."
Chapter 35
The Meeting House was a flurry of activity for the rest of the day, and well into the night. The men brought a lot more gas than we had jars to fill. Indeed, it would take most of the group to carry all of our Molotov Cocktails into battle. We stuffed as many as we could in any pack found.
At some point Sean took a few other men and scouted out the mob's campsite. Around midnight, under a single kerosene lantern, we stood around a table looking at the map. Everyone was given a position to man above the mob. Sean's plan was to throw most of the Molotov Cocktails down amongst the mob without lighting them first.
"Why do that?" I asked. "Won’t they smell the gas and run away?"
"I'll be happy if they run away," he said. "But in truth they won't have time. It will only take a few minutes to throw all we have down on them." He paused for dramatic effect. "All of that gasoline will be evaporating furiously in the heat. When I throw the last Molotov Cocktail, it will be lit."
"Boom," Hector said. "That will be one ginormous explosion."
"Will it be safe for us?" I asked.
"Not really," Sean said. "That's why as soon as each of you finishes throwing your load, get the hell out of Dodge. I'll wait as long as I can."
"Will you be all right?" I asked. He was our main military guy. Bill might be community leader, but Sean was our general. Losing him would be a catastrophe. "Maybe someone else should throw the lit one."
"No. I'll do it," he said. Sean stared off into space a moment. "Being the one to literally kill hundreds of men, women, and children would be too much of an emotional burden to ask of any of you. I was, uh, trained to deal with it."
That's when the magnitude of what we planned hit me. The fact the mob would happily slaughter us if we failed didn't mitigate the fact we were going to try and kill hundreds, if not thousands of people. How did soldiers deal with that after war? I knew Roger had issues stemming from his service, but I was just beginning to understand.
"We're all already damaged," I whispered.
No one volunteered to replace Sean in that odious deed. I certainly wasn't. My own part in the raid was going to be tough enough to deal with in the near future. So we gathered up our loads and headed out.
I had Timmy's Star Wars book bag filled with mason jars of gasoline. I also carried a jar in each hand. My only other weapon was the 9mm on my hip. Only a few managed to carry a rifle or shotgun. Our sole purpose was to splatter gallons of gasoline all over the mob.
Sean, Hector, and Bill each took a team. I was on Hector's team. The team leaders' job was to place each of us in our assigned post. Those were the spots above the mob that provided the best chance of throwing our jars in a good "shot pattern." We wanted to splatter as many of them as possible.
I tried not to think about what we were about to do. I couldn't imagine a worse way to die. The closer to that moment of fate we came, the more I trembled. For a moment I wasn't sure I'd be able to throw my jars.
From my post high above the road, I could see countless shapes curled up in sleep. My post was at the top edge of the mob, so I couldn't even see the main body on the level ground further down the road. To my left was Hector. To my right Paul.
I placed my pack full of death on the ground and unzipped it. And then waited. I didn't have to wait long. When I saw Hector start throwing his jars, I began throwing mine. The sound of breaking glass filled the air, followed by crowd noises. People started shouting, then screaming. The mob suddenly surged down the road, trying to escape certain death.
I grabbed my empty pack once I was done and started back up toward the Meeting House. Gunfire erupted down below. Bullets hit the ground all around me. I heard Hector gasp. My breath caught when he fell straight back down the mountain. A second later their gunfire ignited the gas.
BOOM!
I was flattened to the ground, my breath knocked out. Dirt and gravel cascaded down the mountainside, pummeling me. I gasped and struggled to regain my breath, on all fours and filled with panic. The heat from the fire was the most intense I'd ever felt.
Keeping my eyes uphill, I started crawling as I sobbed. I did not want to see the hell on earth below. I did not want that image in my head forever. All I wanted at that moment was to curl up into a ball and forget the world.
"Come on, Jenny," Sean said.
I felt his hands on me. Lifting me. Making me walk. Forcing me to climb up the steep trail. When I slowed, he pushed. He kept me moving. Soon we reached the Meeting House. They did a quick roll call. We lost Hector and Bill. Sarah collapsed in hysterics. I found my boys and hugged them, and began balling like a baby.
Chapter 36
More men and women joined the mayor. They urged us to leave the church. After some hesitation, we shouldered the packs, and collected our remaining weapons. The townspeople could have the bikers' weapons and ammo.
A crowd was starting to gather. Men with rifles, shotguns, and pistols were scattered among the townspeople. There were not very many armed men, but at least they had the confidence to openly carry again. Still, I didn't think they had what it took to truly defend their little town anymore, if they ever did.
They lacked a necessary ruthlessness and resolve. I could understand it. The zombie apocalypse was soul numbing for everyone. If I spent much time contemplating the uselessness of life I might not have much fight left in me, either.
A front end loader was coming down the road, with a few men hanging off by the driver. The mayor ushered everyone off to the side so it could pull up before the church's entrance. Then men filed in. Moments later they began dragging bodies out and putting them in the tractor's big bucket. Other men came out carrying weapons and ammo.
"Hell's Soldiers rode into town five days ago," Mayor Wilkinson said in a very low voice. "They killed the two police officers we had right off, and then started looting the stores. When they found a woman they liked, they took her, too."
"Holy crap," Mike said. "Y'all didn't fight back?"
He grimaced. "Yes. At first. They killed anyone who resisted. If they caught you alive, they butchered you like an animal in the street as a lesson to the rest. Everyone who could high-tailed it out of town and never came back. The rest of us swallowed our pride and tried to stay alive."
"That's messed up, man," Mike replied. "Those men were the worst kind of savages."
Even before they finished hauling away the bodies, Mike, Charlie, and I were led away. They took us to the nearby home of a doctor. She had a makeshift examination room in her garage. I thought that odd, and unsanitary, until they opened the garage door and let the fading light in. The garage was facing west, so the setting sun was all the light we had. Lighting would be an issue no matter what without electricity.
Two other younger women helped her, a blonde and a redhead. They appeared to be either nurses or assistants. No one bothered to advise us of their credentials. They were the ones who urged and bullied us out of our blood-soaked uniforms. Then they gave us standup sponge baths, before the doctor took over and examined us.
Doctor Elizabeth DiMassi was a tall, grim woman of around fifty. She wore blue scrubs and raised an eyebrow when we refused to remove our unde
rwear.
"I think a little modesty best," I said.
She glanced at Mike's boner, poorly hidden under his boxers, and nodded. The other two women grinned and shook their heads.
The doctor cleaned our wounds and set my nose, too. Very painful without pain killers. Apparently, the bikers took all medicines they could find. Thankfully, we weren't too terribly battered. All three of us were bruised black and blue from head to foot. Mike even had a gunshot wound that passed completely through his left butt cheek.
"Dammit, I didn't want them to know," he grumbled when the doctor asked about it out loud. "It's not very deep."
"Wahoo, Mike got a shot of ass," Charlie cried.
"Shhh, there are women," I said.
"We've heard worse," Dr. DiMassi said. She glanced at Mike's boner. He stared off into space, face bright red. "You boys are in remarkably good shape after dealing with those monsters."
"Well, we've had too much experience dealing with men like that recently," I said.
"You know what would really make us feel better?" Mike asked.
I tensed. He'd been giving the cute redhead some looks. All I could think about were all of the rude and crude remarks he'd made during our journey. Basically, comments most combat arms soldiers made around their comrades.
"What?" the redhead asked.
I looked at him. Charlie turned to him, too. He had everyone's undivided attention. I think the doctor was even a little nervous about what he would ask for.
"Beer," he said. "Or hard liquor if that's all you have."
The blonde giggled. Charlie looked as relieved as I felt. The doctor smiled and shook her head woefully.
"I'm afraid the bikers took all of the alcohol in town," Dr. DiMassi said. "We have some warm soft drinks." After another head to toe look at us, "I would suggest showers."
The sponge baths were nice, but to truly get clean we'd need to scrub in a nice shower or bathtub. The sponge bath only rinsed our hair, so we still had a lot of nastiness there.
"That would be nice," I said. "But then we have to put those nasty uniforms back on."
That's when I noticed our blood-drenched BDUs were all missing. I never noticed anyone taking them. Everything in my pockets was placed in a pile on the floor. At least our boots were still there.
Noticing where I was looking, the redhead spoke up, "We threw your clothes away. They were ruined beyond our ability to clean, but we sent word out for new clothes."
"Camouflage?" Charlie asked.
The redhead hesitated. "Um, I can ask."
The doctor's house actually had three full bathrooms. I was led to a Jack-and-Jill bath that was lit by a Coleman lantern. Very bright. Very hot. Since the water was cold, I learned to appreciate the heat coming off the lantern. They had soap and shampoo, so I had my first full bath since the shit hit the fan. Afterwards, I found a disposable razor and shaving cream on the vanity, so was able to shave for the first time in two weeks.
Mayor Wilkinson was waiting in the adjoining bedroom when I finished. There was a pile of donated clothes on the bed.
"We're not sure of your sizes, so collected all of this. There's some hunting camouflage in there, plus clean underwear. Help yourself. Join us on the back patio when you're dressed."
I closed the door after he left, and before removing the towel. Clean underwear felt great. There was a faded set of BDUs in the pile, but too small for me to wear. I did find a pair of jeans large enough that I could move well in them, and then a camouflage shirt of a very light material. My boots were at the foot of the bed and freshly cleaned. The laces were wet, so I figured they hand washed them. There was no blood on the boots.
Clean socks felt almost as good as the underwear. It didn't take long to dress. I stuffed extra pairs of socks and underwear in my pockets. Charlie was already out on the patio when I arrived. It was full night, with only a lantern for lighting.
My body suddenly felt fatigued. Charlie looked just as tired.
"Where's Mike?"
Charlie wore full camo. Not military camo, but hunting camo was just as good. He'd opted to keep his growing beard.
"Still showering, I guess," he said.
The doctor, mayor, and the blonde nurse were on the patio. There were also two other middle-aged men, and three older women. They were all polite, but solemn.
"Wow, I feel much better, man," Mike cried when he came out.
He had shaved and changed into jeans and a t-shirt. It was a brown t-shirt. I was about to suggest he get a long-sleeved shirt for the protection when I noticed he had a camo shirt in his hand. And then the redhead followed him out. Her hair was wet, too.
I noticed a few jaws drop. Mike looked like the cat who ate the canary. The redhead smiled, but averted her eyes. Charlie and I shared a look, and shook our heads.
"What?" Mike asked.
"Roger, am I correct in that you are the leader?" Mayor Wilkinson asked.
"Mike is," the redhead said.
"Shh," Mike said. "Roger outranks me in the Army. Um, but…um. Never mind."
I couldn't help but chuckle, which just seemed to confuse the redhead. Mike looked unrepentant.
"Kind of sort of, but really no," I said. "We aren't really in the Army anymore. We left service prior to all of this crap going down. They just agreed to help me return to my family in Georgia."
"I plead temporary insanity," Charlie said. He indicated Mike, "He's just bat shit crazy."
"I can hear you," Mike said, and we all grinned.
The townspeople, who I assumed were the town leaders, looked confused and uncertain. They obviously didn't understand you had to have a sense of humor. Otherwise the brutality and senselessness of war, or apocalypses, would make you crazy.
"We'd like to offer you boys a job here in Adamsville," the mayor said. "As our police."
Can't say I was surprised. Anyone willing and capable of doing the job was either killed by the biker gang, or left town already. Being a cop was a tough, thankless job. I knew myself well enough to know I was not cut out for that profession. They needed someone a lot nobler of heart than me.
"I can't speak for Mike and Charlie, but I'm going home," I said. "I have to get to my family as soon as possible. There is no other option."
"And we're committed to helping him," Charlie said. "Besides, there is no future here. You have to leave town or you will die."
That stunned them. They whispered amongst themselves, looking worried and agitated.
"You do realize that every damn zombie in the country is headed south, right?" I said. "I didn't see a single zombie heading north, so it won't be long before you are swept away by the sheer number of them."
"How many?" Dr. DiMassi asked.
"Millions," Charlie said.
"Tens of millions," Mike added. "It seems most people in the larger cities were infected, and most of the population was on this side of the Mississippi. So there could be as many as two hundred million zombies."
I opened my mouth to object. Nothing came out. As much as I hated the thought, Mike might be right. I never considered just how many were infected. Two hundred million seemed high, especially considering a large portion of the population was surely dead and a large portion of the US population was on the west coast. Yet, I couldn't rule out a hundred million or more zombies.
"Holy crap," I whispered. "They'll devour the south like biblical locusts."
"A plague of zombies," Charlie replied. "Damn. Why couldn't you be from Buffalo, New York? Or better still, Seattle."
"I know," Mike said, giving me an accusing look. "You had to live in the middle of the zombies favorite playground. And you think I'm crazy."
"You are crazy," I said. "But you're a good kind of crazy. And knowing the zombies are all heading south is my biggest concern. I have to get my family out of Georgia before it's too late." I turned to the mayor. "You need to lead your people out of here before it's too late."
"Are you sure?" he asked, looking around for suppo
rt. "We've seen a few zombies, but not too many."
"We passed through a ton of them just north of here," I added. "They'll be here within a day or two."
We had to explain to them that zombies were all walking. They also tended to wander around a lot. They were coming, but taking their time. And that was a good thing for the people of Adamsville, but they still couldn't waste time.
"Gather up all of the weapons and ammo you can find, and then put everyone into any vehicles that still run," I said. "And head due west. You have to go to the other side of the Rockies. The government is still operating there."
"Are you forgetting they sealed the border off?" Charlie asked.
"I cannot imagine they'd allow so many to die," I said. "They'll have to start letting survivors in sooner or later."
"I never realized you were such an optimist," Mike said. "So sad."
"Why would the government seal off the Rockies?" Dr. DiMassi asked.
"They say everyone on this side of the country is infected, whether you turned into a zombie or not," Charlie said. "I'd suggest you go to Canada."
"Is Mexico infected?" Mike asked. "If not, it might be easier to reach Mexico than Canada. There are a lot of zombies between here and Canada."
We discussed what we'd seen during our trip across the country. Going up the Mississippi would be all but impossible, but they could follow it north. We warned them there were a lot of zombies along the river, so that would be a fight every step of the way. I thought going north up through the Appalachia Mountains safer since zombies seemed to take the path of least resistance. Mike suggested they might be able to go down to the coast and hitch a ride on a ship out.
"It all comes down to you cannot stay and expect to live," I said. "Get together with everyone and decide where to go."
"You can't stay?" the mayor asked. "We'll need someone to lead us to safety."
I kind of thought that was his job. He was the elected official.
"We have to leave as soon as the truck is ready," I said. "Speaking of…"
"It's ready," Mayor Wilkinson said. "Our guys worried that it is pretty smashed up, but it drives."
