American Revenant (Book 2): Settlers and Sorrow (8 page)

            Leaving
this house Mike told the others, “What do you guys say we leave these bags
beside the road, maybe in the ditch a bit so they aren’t easily visible?”

            “Why? 
We’re only getting the most important stuff right now; I hate to just leave it
beside the road.”

            “The
bags are already getting heavy,” Mike told Jimmy, “and we need to be able to
react quickly, carrying these around will slow us down.  We can get more
whenever we clear a new place.  Leave them lined up along the road, pick them
up on the way back.”

            “I
think it’s a damn good idea,” Jack said.

                “
What the hell, it
would
be a lot easier
than
packing them with us all day.”

            Placing
the bags under some leaves at the edge of the road, they made their way down to
the next house.  The place was very small, and looked as if it were going to
fall in at any moment. 

            “Looks
like this place was abandoned years ago.  Check it or keep going?”

            “Let’s
check it Jack, but we aren’t going in past the door.  I would really hate for
us to fall through the floor.”  Jimmy looked at Jack, a big smile on his face,
“Well, I’d hate for
ME
to fall through the floor, you on
the other hand…”

            “Ohhh,
that hurts,” Jack told him, “but not nearly as much as it’s going to hurt when
I feed your ass to the next zombie that comes along.”  Both men laughed quietly
as they made their way up to the old house.

            They
stepped gently up onto the porch, careful of their footing.  Jimmy was about to
lean around and peek in the door when a board made a loud crack beneath his
foot.  He stumbled, catching himself on the doorframe when a gray and black
form low to the ground shot through the open door. 

            Jimmy
was knocked from the porch, sprawling on his back in the long grass.  Jack
watched as the creature, which they quickly realized was a large dog, came
bounding back for Jimmy.  He saw it coming; barely having time to throw is arm
up over his face.  He felt big teeth graze his arm, and just before they would
have broken skin he felt the dog jerk and give a loud yelp.

            Mike
had run ran forward as soon as he saw Jimmy hit the ground.  He was there in
time to kick the snarling dog just as it put its mouth around Jimmy’s forearm. 
Knocking the dog off of Jimmy, he drew up his rifle and pulled the trigger
twice, hitting the animal and killing instantly. 

            Jack
came down from the dilapidated porch, he and Mike both leaning over Jimmy. 
“Holy shit, man!  Are you ok?”  Jack reached out to give Jimmy a hand up.

            Back
on his feet, Jimmy took a few deep breaths, trying to slow his hammering
heart. 

            “Good
freaking grief!  Dog must have been hungry, or scared out of its mind.”  Jimmy
looked at his friend, “Thanks for saving my ass there.”

            “No
problem.  I didn’t feel like carrying said “ass” back.”

            Jimmy
laughed, the hard thumping of his heart slowing.  “This does bring to mind one
question though.” 

            “What’s
that?” Jack asked.

            “Why
aren’t we wearing some sort of bite guard?  Something for the neck, arms, and
shins would be a really damn good idea.”

            Jack
nodded, “Yeah, you’re right about that.  We probably should have been doing
that from the beginning.” 

            “Do
you guys want to head back, or should we keep going?”

            “What’s
the matter, Jimmy, you gonna let a puppy scare you back home?”  Mike’s laugh
was infectious. 

            “This
next house is huge, and it looks like there are five or six large buildings
back there.  We have to check them all; let’s make this one the last for the
day.  When we come out again we need to have some sort of bite-protective gear
on, though.”

            In
silent agreement, the three men began to follow the white fence that appeared
to surround most of the property.  They could have shortened their walk by
climbing the fence, but agreed that climbing over it was simply an unnecessary
risk.  By following the fence they were also able to tell that the front door
of the house was standing wide open before they walked up to it.

            Standing
in front of the house, far back from the large front porch and open entry door,
the men took a moment to survey the property.  Dried blood, looking almost
black from where they stood, stained the doorjamb, as well as bloody footprints
up the front steps.They could also see broken glass glittering around the door.

            “Broken
glass on the outside, someone shattered it from inside,” Jack observed. 
“Should we do the walk-around like the last two?”

            “Yeah,
do the walk-around, watch the windows, but let’s stay back far enough that
nothing can pop out from a corner or bush and grab us.” 

            Jimmy
and Jack nodded to Mike, and moved left around the large house.  Taking their
time they watched the windows as they went, finding nothing until they came to
the back door, which was also hanging open.  They could see footprints, leading
past them to the large circle drive.  The one pickup truck there had a bloody
hand print on the door and smears over the window.

            Jimmy
walked toward the pickup, seeing another set of footprints mixed with the
first.  He moved slowly, his friends behind him moving as quietly as he was. 
He stopped a few feet from the truck, stooping low to check underneath, and to
see if there was anything hiding on the other side.

            Standing
back up he nodded at the other two men and walked directly to the truck,
examining the smears around the door handle.  He turned around to look at his
friends as they walked up to him. 

            “Someone
ran out here, thinking to escape in the truck, couldn’t get it open and ran
off, maybe?  Whoever it was must…”  A loud thump came from behind them, causing
Jimmy to jump forward, nearly knocking Mike over.  Jack shouted, “Oh, fuck me!”
and stumbled backwards.

            All
three men righted themselves quickly, turning back to the truck, ready to face
whatever was there. 

            A
bloody hand slammed at the window again, smearing gore across the inside of the
window.  They could see bits of flesh being torn from the hand as it tried to
grab at them through the glass. 

            The
creature rose up behind the window, its skin looking tight and bloodless. The
skin had begun to split in several places, showing the tissue and bone just
below the surface.  They could see a gaping wound on the dead things’ upper right
arm, dried blood and flesh surrounded a hole that went all the way to the
bone. 

            “You
were right, Jimmy, someone did try to escape by getting into the truck.  Right
after he got bit.  I wonder how long he’s been in there.”

            “Jack,
you ok?” Jimmy asked.

            “I
think I might have pissed a little.  Other than that, yeah I’m just fine.”

            “No
worries man, I won’t say anything if you don’t tell anyone I tried to jump into
Mike’s arms,” Jimmy said, a half-hearted grin on his face.

            “Is
that what you were trying to do?” Mike asked, grinning back at Jimmy.  I
thought you might have just felt a sudden need for a hug.”

            “What
are we going to do with this guy?” Jimmy asked, facing the truck.

            “Bologna
face?  Just open the door, and I’ll put a blade in his head before he can even
get out.”

            “Bologna
face”, Mike?   What the hell?”

            “Well
look at him, he looks like a piece of bologna someone left on the dashboard in
the hot sun.”

            “And
you have seen a piece of bologna left on the dashboard in the hot sun?” Jack
asked.

            Mike
gave a short laugh, “Yeah, one of the girls did that once.  Lisa and I could
never figure out which one did it.  It was over a weekend and I didn’t find it
until I went to work Monday morning.  I’m telling you, that guy looks an awful
lot like that piece of sun baked bologna.”

            Though
the dead creature was securely closed inside the truck, they knew it had to be
dispatched.  Jack stood back, watching the house to make sure nothing came up
behind them.  He also had no desire to see the job being done.

            Jimmy
opened the door for Mike, swearing as the smell inside the truck hit him.  Mike
drew back the SOG Kukri; the same one Lisa had carried with her, swinging hard
at the zombie’s head as soon as the door opened.  The undead thing had been
pushing against the door, and fell forward as it came open.  Mike’s swing
missed the head, striking solidly on the neck, severing the spine. 

            “Aw,
damn it!” Jimmy exclaimed, jumping back from the head as it bounced near his
foot, splattering thick gore on his boots. 

            “Well,
shit,” Mike said, cursing the head and his missed swing.  When the head stopped
bouncing Mike placed his foot on it to keep it from moving away from his blade,
the teeth still snapping.  He placed the tip of the kukri against the thing’s
temple and pressed hard, bone cracked and the blade sunk deep into the brain. 

            Once
the teeth stopped snapping, Mike removed his foot and wiped brain matter off
the blade in the thick grass.  Jimmy had no comic remarks, and the other two
did not want to stand around talking about what had just happened.

            “Let’s
finish the walk-around,” Mike said, sheathing the long blade and taking off
toward the house.

            The
others followed and they made it back to the open front door without
incident.   They entered the house slowly with Jimmy in the lead position, Jack
followed, and Mike brought up the rear. 

            Standing
in the large foyer they could see blood and carnage everywhere they turned.  A
broken broom handle, blood staining the first six inches of it, lay on the
floor inside the door.  Bloody handprints and footprints were everywhere.  A
long, wide track of dried gore streaked the floor leading into the house; as if
someone had crawled through a pool of blood.

            The
three men spent the next hour, going from room to room in the large house.  The
once nice home was now a tomb of carnage.  They found several bodies, though
none tried to eat them.  Whatever had happened here, the people in the house
were lucky enough to have died and stayed dead.

            Once
the house, from basement to garage to attic, was cleared the men gathered
outside behind the house, taking time to suck in fresh air and expel the horrid
smell of the house from their sinuses. 

            There
was little conversation, the pervading smells and sights of violent death
silencing any words they might have shared.    

            Mike
broke the quite saying, “Let’s get these buildings done and go back to the
Camp.  I think I’ve had my fill for the day.”

            “Those
are stables back there,” Jack pointed out.  “Maybe they trained horses, or
rented stalls.”

            As
they approached the first building they caught the scent of more rotting flesh. 
The first building they came to was a barn, feed and hay were stacked
throughout the building, as well as an old truck and several other implements
dedicated to farming.  There were no dead inside the building.

            “Where’s
the smell coming from?  There’s nothing in here.”

            Mike
and Jimmy shrugged, having no answer to Jack’s question. 

            The
next building was much like the first, filled with farming supplies.  They
spent as little time as possible inside, though it still took them nearly ten
minutes to be certain the building was cleared.  The smell of rot had gotten
stronger as they went on. 

            As
the group approached the next building, the first of three identical ones, they
began to taste the rotten smell in the back of their throats.  The odors were
pervasive, and began to force each man to fight against his gag reflex. 
Pulling their shirts up over mouth and nose seemed to alleviate this, if only
minimally. 

            Stepping
into the large building the fetor of decay seemed to take substance, like a
weight pressing down upon the three men.  They found it difficult to move the
further they went into the long stable.  They began to see dead horses, bodies
bloated and bursting inside the hot stalls. 

The building was long and open, with hooks holding
tack along one wall.  There was nowhere for anything to hide.  They pushed all
the way down to the far end, looking in each stall as they went, the thick odor
making each step forward a chore. 

            About three-fourths of the way down the building
they came to an open stall.  Bringing their weapons up, they approached
slowly.  Looking into the stall all three men turned away, yanking shirts from
faces so they could vomit freely.   After a moment of sucking in the fetid air
they stood straight, replaced their shirts and turned back to the stall.