Running to Escape
by
Robert Schobernd
A Zombie Apocalypse Thriller Featuring
Sam & JR
Published by Robert Schobernd at Amazon
Copyright 2020 by Robert Schobernd
TABLE OF CONTENTS
Chapter 1 Running to Escape
Chapter 2 Running to Live
Chapter 3 Running to Hide
Chapter 4 Running to Survive
Chapter 5 Running No More
Now sit back with a snack and a drink and enjoy
Running to Escape
Chapter 1
Running to Escape
After lunch Saturday afternoon, Sam Boyle drove south to Lawton, Oklahoma, to buy groceries. He planned to be parked at the Aldi’s store within twenty minutes and back home by two. The temperature was hot, pushing ninety-five, and he was sweaty from being outdoors shooting for the past three hours. It was his fourth practice session in the past week. The target range extended three hundred yards for rifle practice out across parched grass and weeds to a tree line in front of a high dirt ridge. The sheet of plywood atop the shooting stand provided shade, but the air was still hot and humid with only slight occasional breezes. Two hundred rounds shot through two .40 caliber Glock G 24 handguns at fifty feet gave him a good feel for the weapons. Due to them not having a safety switch and being carried hot, he’d practiced drawing them, unloaded, at home from his thigh holster several evenings. He was pleased with his target practice performance with the new firearms; his handgun accuracy with the black semiautomatics was better than he expected. He fully appreciated their eventual use would demand pinpoint accuracy if he was to survive. Practice on the M-21 sniper rifles went well too. Both were sighted in at 200 yards. With his final weapon he was amazed at the damage the 12 gauge shotgun slugs did to the 1 1/2” thick boards nailed between two trees. They were thoroughly splintered at one hundred feet.
Before his dad died, they’d spent many hours at Charlie Wilcox’s homemade shooting range plunking tin cans and paper targets. He was prepared to leave Oklahoma any day and head north but kept procrastinating. He’d waited much too long to check off the final issue on his ‘escape list’—buying appropriate firearms.
Uprooting his life from his childhood home environment was proving harder than he’d anticipated. But that emotional baggage holding him back had to be overcome soon. Selling the house he’d been raised in was the first of several highly emotional acts. However, his future there was a vast unknown and getting bleaker by the week. He firmly believed it was past time to move on.
Charlie and his wife Ilene lived eight miles north of Fort Sill Army base. Since his dad’s death, Sam had visited them often and grown even closer. They had no children and treated him like an adopted son. He only wished Charlie wasn’t so hardheaded and set in his ways. If he and Ilene didn’t accept what was fast approaching, it could cost them their lives. They’d had several intense discussions about the approaching zombie threat, but Charlie simply pooh-poohed the idea of dead bodies attacking the living because there was nothing on the TV about it.
North of the city at Fort Sill, Sam was surprised by the high level of activity around the exterior of the base. Tanks and armored personnel carriers were leaving the main gate in a steady stream to take up stations around the long, tall perimeter fence on the south side. Ground forces appeared to be in full battle gear despite the hot afternoon sun and high humidity. He’d never seen so many troops and pieces of equipment outside the base before and wondered if they were practicing some new security maneuvers. He hoped it had nothing to do with the zombies he knew were heading their way. Surely they weren’t that far north of the Gulf Coast already. But—what if?
On the north side of Lawton, he exited Interstate 44 South onto NW Cache Rd. A thousand yards ahead stalled traffic was backed up to a full stop. He switched to the left lane before stopping. Sam immediately thought there must be a bad wreck ahead. Several drivers ahead of him honked their horns impatiently for the blockage to move. Some got out of line and drove on the shoulder or crossed the dry grass medium to the eastbound lanes. Several of those—especially the compact cars—didn’t make it across the deep ‘V’ to the east bound lanes.
To his right, at a parallel road, traffic on NW Lawton Avenue was also stopped. He was changing the radio station when frantic movement caused him to suddenly look up and to the right. Through a six foot opening between vehicles, Sam’s gaze locked on a frightening scene, and he exclaimed loudly, “Oh, shit.” He held his breath as he got his first actual sighting of real liv—undead zombies. A lump formed in his throat; he had fervently believed the threat was real, and suddenly he was face to face with its evil. His truck was stopped in the left lane, and he opened the driver’s door to stand on the doorsill and peer over the top of the work van next to him. The sun beat down on people on Lawton Avenue being attacked outside their cars by the undead; undead who only hours or days earlier had been ordinary people, maybe neighbors or relatives. The people should have stayed inside their vehicles and kept the zombies at bay. He watched horrified as victims who were too old or too slow to escape were bitten and torn until shock set in. They fell dead—then within a minute or so slowly rose to chase other people. Even their own relatives received no quarter after they turned. The old, slow people even moved faster after they turned. The ragtag, undead army grew steadily as more humans were caught and overcome. A group of four undead monsters turned toward NW Cache Road and stumbled and slipped up the grass covered embankment toward his line of stalled traffic. Sam sat and slammed the door shut behind him. He jiggled the truck forward and back before he drove on the left shoulder. An SUV behind him honked viciously as he pulled out in front of it. He drove until he reached a spot where he was positive the truck, with the high and heavy camper on the back, could safely cross the median to the east bound lanes. Other drivers had the same intention, but some failed. More cars were stuck in the ditch the further he drove. People from those cars ran south across the highway to escape. He pushed the horrendous thought out of his mind that those people would soon be dead. He would bet his future that more zombies would be encountered further south into town. He couldn’t save them all; he would pick the time and place where he fought the undead. Sam finally waited his turn and crossed the median at a crossing for emergency vehicles only. He waited for three cars ahead of him to bull their way into the other lanes of slow moving traffic.
Accelerating in the eastbound lanes, Sam glanced across the highway and saw zombies beating on the glasses and clawing to reach cowering people still inside the line of westbound cars he had escaped. At least most had enough sense to stay in the relative safety of their metal and glass boxes. Several people were out of their cars running away. Sam feared for them. Running in the high July temperature was futile; he knew the undead could stumble along for days without resting. They required neither food nor water. Out in the open, they would eventually catch even a capable sprinter. Pulling to the shoulder on the left side of the road, he used one of his .40 caliber handguns from forty feet to put head shots into three zombies chasing a family. Five shots to stop three stumbling monsters wasn’t good enough; he’d need to improve quickly in order to live. He chastised himself; shoot high on the skull. The brain is the target. Nothing else matters. Just hitting the lower skull was a waste of bullets. The two adults and two children crammed into the back seat of a large Buick sedan that had turned around on the narrow shoulder. Then it took off east on the shoulder in the wrong direction toward another emergency vehicle turnaround a short distance away.
Pounding on the side of
his truck’s cab caused Sam to swing his handgun across to the passenger side window. He almost shot a young couple with a child pleading to get in his truck. There was no choice but to help them. He flipped the door locks switch, and they scrambled inside. Both adults spoke at once until the man nudged the woman holding the small child. The blonde woman was wide-eyed and close to being hysterical. Sam guessed the adults were each twenty-five to twenty-eight, and the child maybe three. All three slender and blond. “What the hell’s going on? Are those things what I think they are? Zombies? But that can’t happen, can it?” Both adult hitch-hikers were clearly frightened and lost as to what to do. It was too bad they, like most people, had dismissed the zombie rumors over the last six months. Now millions of deniers were face to face with the reality of undead evil. He clicked his right turn signal and pulled back onto the highway amid gawking motorist driving like foreign tourist.
“I’m Sam, yeah they’re the real deal. I’m going north to Apache; where do you want me to drop you?”
“I’m Tom Haden and Clarise is my partner. My car got stuck in the drainage ditch trying to cross the median back there. Since you’re going north, can you drop us at my dad’s house in Richard’s Spur?”
“Sure, but I thought that old place was an abandoned ghost town.”
“It almost is; my dad is one of about a dozen or so folks who still hang on there. That’s only because he works at the quarry and is close to his job. I need to warn him and make plans to leave.”
When they were on Interstate 44 North approaching Fort Sill, Sam again ran into congested traffic as Army MPs directed vehicles in the southbound lanes away from Lawton and into the northbound lanes. Most people looked confused and irritated. Some stopped to argue or demand answers and were told forcefully to move on due to an emergency to the south. They were in for a grand shock now that they were finally faced with the fact of the zombie invasion being real. Rumors of it approaching had floated for weeks, but most people laughed it off as impossible fantasy. Most of the few who believed it might be real assumed the authorities and army troops would deal with it. Tom cuddled Clarise as she whimpered and reassured the two- or three-year-old child.
As he drove, Sam ignored his passengers and thought back eleven days to a previous talk with Charlie. His dad’s best friend was an avid gun collector. Charlie Wilcox lived on the south side of Apache, Oklahoma, on a hundred and sixty acres of hilly woodland. Charlie and Ilene derided Sam when he wanted to buy guns because of the zombie hordes in Europe and Asia.
“Sam,” Charlie said patiently in his laid back manner as he spoke in a fatherly tone, “surely you don’t believe those wild rumors about dead people walking and biting people like that crazy show on TV.” Ilene grinned and snickered ludicrously.
“Yes. I do believe it; I’ve followed it on the internet for many months. It’s real and it’s here. They’ve entered the US through International Airports on the East and West Coasts and into the southern states mainly along the Gulf of Mexico through New Orleans, Houston, and Phoenix.”
Charlie shook his head derisively. “I find that impossible to believe, but firearms are a good long-term investment, so you won’t lose anything buying them. A good friend of mine in Gotebo has a federal license to sell. I buy all my guns and ammo from him, and he treats me right. He also sells to trusted people under the table. Rick claims to be the largest private dealers in the state, and I believe him. He sells a tremendous number of guns and huge amounts of ammunition. I’ll call him and let him know you’re okay. He’ll likely give you a good discount if you buy the quantities we discussed.” Charlie had made a list of guns he recommended Sam buy before he phoned Rick Mabry. Charlie suggested Sam buy some older rifles that had been inspected and reconditioned as opposed to the newest and most expensive weapons. Buying new rifles could easily top three or four thousand dollars each.
Tom and Clarise debated their few options as Sam half listened. Like the vast majority of others, they, too, had ignored the zombie rumors as nonsense and had not even a semblance of a plan to react and escape. Sam highly suspected they would be turned into zombies in the coming days, unless he could change their mindsets.
Sam’s mind drifted; he recalled his drive from Charlie’s place several hours later that afternoon to the gun dealer’s house. From Rick Marbry he bought two Vietnam war era M-21 sniper rifles with the original type scopes, a .22 caliber semiautomatic rifle, two Glock G 24 .40 caliber pistols, one Remington and one Winchester 12 gauge semiautomatic shotguns, a case of .00 buckshot shells, a case of no. 4 shot shells, and a case of slugs. For the rifles and pistols, he bought two cases of hollow point shells for each. He wasn’t surprised at the nearly fifteen-thousand-dollar price tag even after a ten percent volume discount; he’d quickly done his homework online to learn the current prices being asked. Rick assured him the M-21s had been completely disassembled, inspected and test fired to ensure their reliability and accuracy. Sam was pleased with his purchases to supplement the guns his dad left him. But the Remington .308 caliber scoped, bolt-action deer hunting rifle, a .22 caliber bolt-action squirrel hunting rifle, and a Charter Arms .38 caliber snub nosed revolver were seriously lacking in firepower for what he was certain was ahead.
Tom and Clarise roused him from his thoughts with their nonstop jabbering.
He turned off the highway and drove the short distance into Richard’s Spur. Tom directed him to the elder Haden’s white painted frame house at the far edge of the nondescript, dying town. White dust from the nearby limestone mine coated everything with a ghost like look. As they pulled into the driveway, a middle-aged, heavyset, graying man waved from beside a newish looking Dodge truck with the hood raised.
As soon as Sam stopped, Clarise ran from the truck to Tom’s dad with the child in her arms while yelling about what they had witnessed.
“I guess this is my dad’s day off. Thanks for the lift,” Tom said. He looked bewildered.
“My advice is to pack lightly and drive north as quickly as you can, take anything you can barter with because paper money will be worthless very soon as the federal government fails.”
Tom nodded but appeared stunned by Sam’s opinion as he closed the door. Sam shook his head as he backed out, then drove back toward the highway.
Sam detoured and stopped at Charlie and Ilene’s house. He had to warn them. Again. Ilene opened the door as he pounded on it furiously. “Sam, what’s wrong?”
He barged inside past her. Charlie heard the commotion and approached them from the back of the house. “Ilene, they’re here. Just like I told you, they’re here.”
“Who’s here?” Charlie and Ilene asked in unison. Confusion was etched on their faces.
“The zombies are in Lawton. I saw them, and they’ll be here next. You need to leave.”
Charlie gripped Sam’s shoulder. “Calm yourself Sam. What did you see and where?”
Sam breathed deeply. “On Cache. Zombies were on the street to the north of the highway. They’re chasing people and attacking them. When people were bitten, they died and then turned into zombies too.. ..” He saw the doubt in their expressions. “I know it sounds unbelievable, but it’s true.” It was clear they didn’t believe him. “The army at Fort Sill has heavy equipment and soldiers in full battle gear stationed around the south fence toward Lawton. I’ve never seen that before. Near the main gate Military Police are rerouting southbound traffic to the north. When the zombies were chasing people in town, I shot three of them that were chasing a family. They’re real Charlie. You and Ilene need to pack as quick as you can and drive north this evening.”
Ilene moved toward the living room. “I’ll turn the TV on and listen to what they say.”
“You won’t get any information. The government has kept a lid on this so people don’t panic.” Sam said, “Look, please listen to me, I’ve been following this on the internet for over six months. The world’s governments keep shutting down the sites as soon as they post reports and show videos. It�
��s real and it’s here. We’re the last major country in the entire world to be overrun, but it’s happening here today.” Sam hugged Charlie and Ilene. “I’m going home and load my equipment. You’re welcome to come with me when I leave in about three hours from now. I have room for both of you. Please say you will.”
Ilene and Charlie stared at each other with blank, uncomprehending expressions, until Charlie said, “Sam I don’t know what you saw to make you think dead people are attacking humans, but I hope you haven’t killed some innocent people thinking they were dead and still up walking. We’re not leaving until we see it for ourselves and know firsthand it’s real. Come on in and have a cup of coffee while we talk this through.”
“It is real, and I wish I could convince you of it. There’s no time for coffee and talk. It’s time for action. I should have left weeks ago, but I’m leaving now. Good luck to both of you. When you shoot one, remember only a head shot will stop them. You have to destroy its brain. Don’t waste bullets on center mass shots, or they’ll overwhelm you. Sam hugged both friends tightly, then stepped back and turned toward the door. “Good luck. I wish you the best, but you’re putting yourselves in unthinkable danger by procrastinating.”
With tears in his eyes, Sam shook his head dejectedly as he left the house. If they didn’t move immediately, he suspected the couple would join the undead before the next day was over. Charlie had always been stubborn and slow to react. But dawdling now could cost the couple their lives. As he started the truck, he chastised himself for procrastinating and not leaving before the zombies invaded his home turf. He was going to have to ‘man up’ to making decisions faster or he, too, would be doomed.
At the rented garage he currently called home, Sam noted it was a few minutes past three p.m. He attached the sixteen-foot enclosed dual axel trailer to the truck and connected the wiring harness. The Kubota four wheeler and trailer went in first, then the 500cc Yamaha dirt bike. Both were tightly secured. His elderly landlady waved through a living room window. She was a good, likable person, and he hated to leave her. But she could never survive the ordeal ahead and would be a terrible burden. She, like most others, had laughed at his foolishness when he told her of the impending zombie danger.
Running To Escape: A Sam & JR Zombie Thriller Page 1
