He threw the shifter into reverse and backed away from the incoming gunfire. Sean had a hard time controlling the SUV because the gunfire had flattened one of the front tires. The bag of guns contained a rifle, so Sean’s had an idea. He would pin the gunman down with cover fire from the rifle while Joan snuck through the woods to shoot their attacker at close range. Any person who dared to shoot at them would soon be dead, and then they would finish their raid of the campground.
Their reactionary plan appeared to be effective. Sean fired the hunting rifle at the would-be hero who hid behind the truck. Pinned down, they returned not one shot at Sean. Joan disappeared into the woods to gain her advantage and collect another kill shot for herself. He reloaded and continued to pull the trigger. Almost done. Once Joan reached her position, another would be hero would be dead. The clown should have minded his own business and hid in the woods.
Right when Sean thought they were on the verge of victory, a roar erupted to his right and red-hot pain cut through his side. Sean tried to turn away from the pain and run, but then it stung him in the right leg. This damage caused his leg to collapse, and the remaining rounds passed over his prone body. With a break in the gunfire from the attack, Sean’s only choice was to flee into the woods and hide. If they classified dragging and shuffling as fleeing, then Sean fled.
###
Voices spoke, but the meaning of the words eluded Sean. They drew him to the place where Joan had died. The voices belonged to some old fart and Mr. Goody Two Shoes who wanted to save the world. Joan laid dead in a puddle of her own blood alone in the woods. Sean had nothing left to lose, and he wanted, no needed, his revenge. So, Sean headed off to find the rest of the group to end their lives before his life bled out of him. The old fart would die soon enough of old age, and he wasn’t the priority. If Sean still stood after dealing with this bit of revenge, he would return to deal with him too. He had lost a lot of blood, and he knew it limited his time, so Sean needed to act now. Soon he’d join his beautiful sister in death.
As the camp office came into view, Sean found the remaining members of the group outside of the truck. There stood the tall bitch with the bow and arrows, two kids, and another woman. The second woman looked weak, so Sean guessed this would be the easiest target. Even though he lost the rifle, he still had a pistol with a few rounds left in it and his hunting knife. Sean’s last feat of revenge relied on stealth while he approached the group. His blood continued to flow out, and his strength waned by the second, but he hoped he had at least one last kill in him. Sean trudged toward them from a blind angle, and he held his knife in one hand and the gun in the other.
Working his way through the cover of the trees, Sean snuck up behind them. They weren’t the most observant group, and they all faced the opposite way as they watched the road going into the camp. Sean’s target stood at the back of the group behind the two kids. Some mistaken form of protection for the children. He sprung from cover and wrapped his right arm around her neck. He pointed the gun, held in his left hand, at the others.
“If you don’t want to die, then none of you will make any noise.”
The woman with the bow and arrow spun toward Sean's voice. But she was too late to stop him. She drew back the bow but couldn’t take the shot with his human shield. There’s no way she would attempt to shoot him.
“Put the bow down, or I’ll kill her,” Sean said.
“Not on your life. We should have let the zombies kill you!”
“Maybe you should’ve. But your kind is too weak. See what it gets you.”
“What’s our kind?” she asked.
“Civilized people. Kind people. Take your pick. You won’t survive long in this world. This world belonged to people like me and my sister.”
The man who deserved Sean’s vengeance walked up the road. Great, he will get to see her die. He carried a large handgun. It must be the same one he tried to turn Sean into swiss cheese with. Sean readied to serve his just deserts. This death should break them all.
“Drop your weapons, and we will let you live,” said the man in a commanding voice. Sean wondered if he had been a cop before the world’s end.
“I wish that were an option for either Joan or me, but you have already taken her from me. Now I’ll take something from you!”
With those last words, Sean drew the knife across her throat while he pulled the trigger on his pistol. He couldn’t hit anything at any distance with his left hand, but he could empty the gun through the woman’s back. Sean wanted to assure she died before he did.
As her limp body fell from his arms, Sean felt the bullets burn through him again. He was beyond feeling any more pain, and Sean couldn’t wait to be back in his sister’s arms.
CHAPTER 9 - GWEN QUINN
THE FIDGETING IN the back seat told Gwen both Deborah, and the kids had grown restless as they waited inside the truck. If she were honest with herself, the wait bothered her too. The fusillade of gunfire inside the campground had stopped. She hoped Donald prevailed during the firefight because he had kept them all alive. What would they do without him?
Gwen thought there wouldn’t be any harm if they waited outside. The camp office kept them out of sight from the road. From an upright position, Gwen could make an accurate shot. Archery would be impossible seated inside the truck. She justified her decision to step outside with these thoughts in mind.
“OK, we’ll all get out of the truck to stretch our legs a little. Donald will return any minute now, and we’ll be off again. Make sure, you stay behind the office building and the truck so we can remain out of sight, OK?”
“Thanks Gwen, we all need a break after our ride out of Boston this morning,” Deborah said.
“Watch out for zombies.” Betty said.
Matthew had been silent the entire trip, and Gwen couldn’t imagine what went through his young mind. Even with her being over three times his age, she had difficulties processes the events of the day and controlling the fear.
The sun felt good as it shined down on Gwen and warmed her body. She had faith the bright sunny summer day was an omen of how things would turn out. Everything would only get better for them.
The horrors of this unknown life were over for both Nolan and Betty’s mom. Poor Nolan. Gwen met him in the coffeehouse a while ago, but didn’t know him in any deep way. He had only been a customer in the coffeehouse where she worked. It wasn’t like they hung out after her shifts ended. Nolan may have been a brilliant guy or a deranged serial killer for all Gwen knew. As her mind drifted, she heard a raspy voice speak from behind her. “If you don’t want to die, then none of you will make any noise.”
As the unsteady voice with the ominous message shattered her daydream, Gwen spun toward it with her bow drawn and an arrow notched. Sean, the guy who they saved and then paid them back by stealing their vehicle and weapons, stood behind Deborah. He wrapped his arm around Deborah’s neck while he held a hunting knife to her neck. His other hand held the pistol Donald took from the gun shop. Guess she should have taken it from Donald when he offered it to her back in the parking lot of the gun shop. Sean wouldn’t have been able to use it to threaten them now.
“Put the bow down, or I’ll kill her.”
“Not on your life. We should have let the zombies kill you!”
He coughed as he laughed and then replied. “Maybe you should’ve. But your kind is weak. See where it gets you?”
“What’s our kind?”
“Civilized people. Kind people. Take your pick. You won’t survive long in this world. This world belonged to people like me and my sister.”
Gwen wracked her brain for a way out of this situation. She couldn’t hit this guy with an arrow without hitting Deborah because he used her body as a human shield. For the first time, Gwen noticed the blood that dripped from Sean’s wounds. Donald must have gotten the jump on him, so where is he now and why didn’t he finish this guy off?
As Gwen continued to ponder the situation, she heard Donald’
s voice behind her command Sean, “Drop your weapons, and we will let you live.”
“I wish that were an option for either Joan or me, but you have already taken her away from me. Now I’ll take something from you!”
After he spoke these words, Sean drew the knife across Deborah’s neck and severed her carotid artery. He held her body upright while he emptied the pistol into her back. She stopped bleeding because a bullet punctured her heart. Death claimed her in an instant. Deborah’s limp body dropped to the ground, and Gwen heard “No” being yelled by someone (or everyone). Then Donald’s gun roared (she didn’t count the shots) and Sean’s body flew into the air from the force of the bullets that struck him. Then his corpse fell to the ground.
Next thing Gwen knew, Donald grabbed both Matthew and Betty and led them away from the two fresh corpses.
“Keep your eyes on me, don’t look back.” He said as he swept them away from the carnage.
###
Gwen helped Donald bury Deborah. Matthew hadn’t spoken a word since Sean murdered his mother in front of him. Poor kid has seen more bloodshed in one day than most see in a lifetime. Will he ever recover? Gwen wondered when their lives would get better.
Matthew and Betty had a common bond now, since they both watched their mothers die a horrific death on the same day. One a death by zombies and the other a death by a psychopath. No idea if either had living fathers or if they both qualified as orphans now. Gwen decided she would do everything in her power to keep both of them safe. She turned away from the group, and admitted to herself her failures, which led to both Deborah and Nolan’s death. Even Betty’s mother died because of Nolan’s foolish actions. Gwen felt responsible for all their deaths, even if her hand didn’t commit any of the murders.
###
With the sun directly overhead, they sat at a picnic table between Donald and Mel’s campsites. The discussion turned to what their next move should be. Before both the television and radio airways went quiet, there had been reports of a major storm about to hit Southern New England. A massive hurricane which showed no signs of weakening and drifted up the coast. This slow movement caused utter devastation in its wake. They tagged it as the proverbial 100-year storm. They all agreed they couldn’t remain here in the campground, so where should they head to next? Where would they find safety?
“My original plan was to head to Maine after the Sox game. I inherited a piece of property from my father with a cabin on it. It’s in the middle of the woods. The population of the area is low. Fewer people should mean fewer zombies. We might find safety there,” Donald said.
“Linda and I thought about heading to Maine too, so we could see our son. We haven’t been able to get ahold of him, but it seemed like the best option based upon what we knew.”
“Ok Mel, get your rig ready to travel, and I’ll get my trailer ready, and we can hit the highway within the hour. We found smooth travel on the highways all the way here from Boston. Except for one major accident,” Donald said.
“You don’t want to take the highway, Don. The people who live in northern New England can be an odd lot, but they are fierce survivors. I can guarantee they won’t want trouble getting in and will lock down the bridge into Maine from I95. We lived most of our lives in the White Mountains, so we can show you the back way into Maine and that should be clear.”
“OK, Mel. We’ll give your way a shot. Let’s break camp so we can get moving.”
###
Gwen had never camped before, especially in something as fancy as Donald’s Airstream. A complete home on wheels with a bedroom, full bathroom, kitchen, and living area. Breaking camp required them to stow items which would fly around the trailer, disconnect the power and plumbing connections, and connecting the trailer to the truck. Gwen thought Donald was being paranoid since he wanted to store certain supplies in the truck, rather than in the trailer, just in case.
Besides the home on wheels, Donald’s trailer held a small armory. He had changed his clothes into pants with pouch pockets all over them, and a vest like a fisherman might wear. A holster for his pistol and a holder for a rugged-looking knife hung from his belt. He had a short-handled pump shotgun strapped to his body, and every pocket had some gear stored in it. Gwen didn’t know how he kept it all straight.
Donald equipped Gwen with a rifle of some type, a pistol he called a Glock, and a hunting knife. He gave her quick instructions with the weapons and had her fire a few rounds with each one. No one would mistake her for Annie Oakley, but she could hit a stationary target after this brief practice session. This time Gwen wouldn’t turn the guns down. She took responsibility for the deaths on her watch and vowed to not let it happen again. If she had something besides a bow and arrow, Nolan, Betty’s Mom, and Deborah might still be alive. Both children wouldn’t be orphans (their dads must be dead by now) and stuck with two strangers.
###
They debated their plan until they reached a reasonable solution. Mel and Linda would lead the way in their RV while Donald, Gwen, and the kids would follow in his pickup truck as it towed the trailer behind. The prospective route took them north on the highway for a dozen exits and then west on a rural state road. They would make their last turn north on lightly traveled roads through the White Mountains. Once they reached the cutoff into the mountains, they would turn right straight into Maine. The road less traveled. It would make Robert Frost proud.
Mel and Linda raised their children in Northern New Hampshire, so these were familiar routes for them. Based upon his experience, Mel thought it would be the safest route since the areas they passed through had smaller populations. Only locals or lost tourists ever drove on them. The big downside would be a much longer travel time compared to driving straight up the highway. Donald’s truck came equipped with two gas tanks and both were close to full. If they could avoid the zombies and any other survivors with evil intent, they would survive.
Gwen was still unsure about using the rifle because of her inexperience. She would do her best when the time came for her to defend the group. The bow and arrows were effective weapons, but the need for more firepower had become clear. The ammunition supply will dry up someday, and she would have to turn back to her trusty bow and arrows then.
Mel pulled out of his campsite, and Donald followed. The trip to the cabin in Maine started now. Gwen hoped the cabin would be the island of safety they sought and not a death trap.
CHAPTER 10 - DONALD BISHOP
DONALD PULLED OUT behind Mel’s RV. He didn’t know if these two big vehicles were an oasis on wheels or targets on this trip. With the damage done to the Pilot during the shootout, this had been their only option to escape. They carried adequate supplies and had a place to sleep out of the elements which would be a plus. If they ran into a road obstruction, then maneuverability would be difficult with the long rig and they’d end up screwed. A minus.
The things Donald learned about surviving in the wilderness as a child would come in handy if he kept his mind in the game. He needed to remember his only back up was Gwen and Mel. One lacked any outdoor survival skills, and the other had been tough at one time, but now was too old.
Back at the campground, Donald gave Gwen some quick lessons on how to fire and reload both the rifle and pistol he presented to her. For a beginner, she shot well. Gwen’s archery skills translated well to the firearms. There was an enormous difference between shooting at a non-moving target and firing while stressed, so Donald hoped she wouldn’t choke when the time came for them to fight. Plenty of opportunities to battle with both the living and the dead lay ahead. The worst came out of people when their lifestyle fell apart. People couldn’t handle any change, and this presented a permanent life-altering change.
Donald counted on the fact that Mel’s circuitous route to Maine would be their best bet. The quickest route followed the I95 highway north, but Mel worried about crossing the bridge that separated New Hampshire from Maine. Either official law enforcement, military, or opportunists might
barricade the bridge to keep people out. Choke points are the perfect place to plan an attack, and bridges provide an ideal choke point. Plus, the population density was higher in the areas along the highway, and more people mean more zombies and more trouble. Donald remembered the massive accident which blocked both sides of the Mass Pike and knew turning this rig around in a tight spot would be tough if not impossible. Donald trusted Mel’s judgment because of his experience as a soldier and a long-term resident of northern New England.
A short trek north on the same highway they traveled getting to the campground would start the first leg of their journey. They came across scattered broken-down or wrecked cars, but each time they maneuvered around the mess without stopping. Many of these dead vehicles had doors thrown open with no one around them. Why would people walk away from a running vehicle? Donald didn’t see any survivors or zombies from the highway, but he stayed alert, not knowing what they would run into next.
This highway led them to a state route which bisected the state from east to west. They traveled west, which took them up a northern route into New Hampshire. This direction passed through rural areas, so they found less abandoned vehicles the farther they traveled. It looked like Mel picked the correct route.
Brake lights glowed from the back of the RV, and Mel slowed to a stop.
“What’s he doing? We’re in the middle of nowhere. Why is he stopping?” Gwen said.
“Be on alert,” Donald said.
“I don’t like this!”
“Neither do I, but we have to trust that Mel knows what he is doing.”
Donald watched Gwen ready the rifle like he taught her. It looked like she had paid attention and wanted to survive. He had the Desert Eagle, and a KA-BAR knife strapped to his belt along with a Mossberg Shotgun with a pistol grip within easy reach. Unless there’s an army in the road, no one would outgun them.
Operation Z | Book 1 | Uprising Page 7
