American Revenant: Hometown Exodus (5 page)

8

                “Find anything good?”

                “Damn, is that all you can say, Mike?  Not
even a ‘Good to see you’re still alive and not eaten by an evil zombie’?” 

                Everyone laughed, which made Jimmy feel
good.  Laughter wasn’t always easy to come by these days.                

“A few things that might be
useful,” Gordy said as he slowly swung open the doors on the box truck.

Everyone stood in shock for a
moment, and then the excited babble began.  No one could believe the haul they
had just brought back.  Rick was especially pleased by the high-powered long
range weapons. 

The group agreed that everything
was ready, and the plan to reach the marina should begin tomorrow morning.  The
box truck was left as is, to be added to later.  The old pickup they had
appropriated and the larger diesel pickup they had been keeping just for a time
like this were brought around to the front near the doors, with everyone
pitching in to ensure they were loaded quickly.

Once the vehicles were loaded, the
group gathered for one last meal in the old school.  Two people were left at
the front doors to stand watch over the loaded trucks.  They were soon replaced
by two others that had eaten, so everyone could enjoy the meal.

When the food was gone and the mess
cleaned up, everyone, including the children, gathered to discuss the plan to
reach marina, and Dean’s mission to ring the church bell.  They talked for
hours, often diverging from the topic to laugh or tell stories of ‘the good old
days’. 

Children and adults began to yawn
and stretch, showing their weariness.  The long days of preparation for
departure had taken a toll on everyone.  With aching backs, sore shoulders and
a glowing hope for tomorrow many went off to rest.  Each and every person was
aware that dawn would be the start of a long day. 

9

Gordy and Jan woke Dean at 3:30 in
the morning.  “Meet us in the cafeteria in a few minutes son.”

Dean took a few minutes to wake up,
use the bathroom, and splash some water on his face.  He knew everyone was
relying on him today, that he had to succeed in his mission or no one would get
out alive.  That thought was more bracing than a cold splash of water.  His
fear of failure was far greater than fear of his own death.

After retrieving his day-kit and
the .22 pistol he always carried, Dean went to the lunchroom to meet his
family.  His parents were there, as were his two older brothers and his younger
sisters, Lynn and Anna.  They weren’t that much younger than he was, but Dean
always felt a strong need to protect them. 

Rick, Mike and Jimmy were also
awake and waiting with his family.  They all gathered around Dean, with somber
faces and heavy hearts.  Whenever someone went out alone the risk was always
far greater.  Everyone present fully understood how critical this mission was,
but it did not make it easier. 

Gordy handed his son a cup of
strong black coffee and said, “Ok son, let’s go over it once more briefly.” 

Dean pushed the coffee back, “You
know I hate coffee, and I know the plan.  We don’t need to go over it again.”

“We know you hate coffee, but the
caffeine will do you good on this morning of all mornings.  Now choke it down
and shut it.”  Jan glared at her son until he took a small sip of the hot
liquid.

“You may be on a life or death
mission, boy, but you still gotta listen to your momma.”

“Really, Rick?  Did you have to say
‘Life or death’?”  Anna looked daggers at Rick, until Jan put her hand on
Anna’s shoulder.  Tears hung in her eyes making Rick feel two inches tall.

                Gordy quickly rescued the moment.  “We all
know what’s at stake here.  But there’s not going to be any death involved.  
Unless it’s the death of the dead,” he said, wearing a big grin.

                “Oh jeez, dad, that’s was pretty bad.”  Lynn
smiled at her father.

                “She’s right, Gordy.  That was awful,” Jimmy
said with a smile.

                “Jimmy, am I going to have to take you
outside?”

                “As long as you don’t tell me to look at the
pretty flowers.”

                Everyone groaned loudly at Jimmy’s T.V. show
reference, and the tension was broken.  From then on the conversation was a
little easier. 

                Dean went over the plan once more, outlining
his bike trip to the church.  How he would get in as quickly and quietly as
possible, then wait until 6 a.m. to start ringing the bell.  Three minutes
after the bell began, the convoy of loaded trucks would start out for the
marina.  It would take them less than five minutes to reach the boat ramp and
slips.  Dean would continue to ring the bell once per minute for twenty-five
minutes.  When the twenty-five minutes were up he would make his way from the
church building down to the waterfront. 

                He was fully aware that getting out of the
church and down to the river’s edge where his extended family would be waiting
was going to be extremely difficult.  He
was
drawing every zombie within hearing distance straight to him, after all.

                Gordy and Dean held their watches next to
each other, watching the second hands sweep rapidly around the face.  The
timepieces had only a few seconds difference and they were both satisfied. 
They continued to stand like that for a moment, as if their wristwatches had
acted as some strange time portal, freezing this second of closeness in time. 

                Suddenly Gordy turned and grabbed his son
and hugged him tightly.  Dean returned the hug eagerly, closing his eyes and
resting his chin on his father’s shoulder for an instant.  “The other guys are
going to get jealous that you don’t hug them like this, Dad.”  The two men
pushed away, recognizing that both were fighting back the flood of fears and
tears threating to burst through the heavily fortified dam of a man’s heart. 

                Quiet laughter passed through the small
group.  Dean proceeded to hug the rest of his family, each as eagerly as he had
his father.  He shook hands with the other men, except when Rick pulled him
into a quick embrace. 

                “It’s a quarter after four, better get on
with this,” Dean said, making for the front doors.  Stepping out into the hall he
nearly walked over a small child that had been sitting on the cold floor.

                “Hey Mr. Fletcher, I wanted to say bye and
be careful ok?” 

                The sweet soft features of Ashley Mitchell
looked up at him.  Ashley had joined his Karate class two years ago on her
eighth birthday.  Her younger sister Miranda had taken the class for a short
time but decided she would rather dance than fight.  Ashley had stuck it out,
becoming quite proficient and a favored student simply for her willingness to
learn.  She didn’t quite understand what respect was yet, but it was obvious
that she had a great deal of it for her instructor.

                “Don’t you worry, Little Dragon,” Dean said,
calling her what he called all of his green belted students, “I’ll be very
careful.”

                “Well, ok then.”  Ashley looked up at him
for a split second then grabbed him in a quick hug.  She turned and ran back
down the hall to her sleeping mat, calling over her shoulder, “Kick zombie
butt!”

                Calvin and Sam were standing guard at the
doors. 

                “Wondered where you two were,” Dean greeted
his brothers, “figured you were probably still sleeping.”

                “We chose guard duty, so we could see you
off, little brother,” Calvin said.

                Calvin and Sam quickly hugged their younger
brother.  No need to draw it out, since they knew he would be coming back to
them soon.

                “Kick zombie butt, man!” 

                “Sam, you aren’t the first person to tell me
that this morning.”  He smiled at his brother, his family and friends, then
pointed his bicycle towards the road and pedaled away.

                “Well let’s get everyone awake and ready. 
They all need to be bright and bushy when 6 a.m. hits,” Gordy told those
assembled at the doors.  He took one last look over his shoulder before closing
the doors.

10

                Dean pedaled hard, not wasting a second.  Following
Highway 79 he crossed the bridge that went over the railroad tracks.  He took
his first available left, up Church Street.  The dark streets were eerily
quiet.  He could not recall a time he had ever been anyplace so silent. 

                Shambling zombies were nearly everywhere he
looked.  The haunting mutilated faces of his fellow townspeople turned to
follow him, their shuffling feet changing direction as he went by. 

                He felt no threat from these sad, horrible
creatures.  He was moving quickly on the bicycle, and there was plenty of room
to maneuver so that he was always out of reach of the grabbing, hungry zombies. 

                It was his intention to go all the way up to
Sixth Street, but a thick knot of zombies milling about and blocking off most
of the street forced him to change plans on the go. 

                Dean took no time to admire the architecture
of the Hannibal Public Library, as he did every other time he saw the
building.  He made a right turn on Fifth Street, then up the block and left on
Broadway.  He pushed faster, easily avoiding the few zombies wandering the
street. 

                Keeping to the right side of the corner in
his turn, Dean nearly ran into a car.  There was a long line of vehicles parked
diagonally along the right side of the street, going all the way to the door of
the church.  It was this line of cars that brought Dean’s thought processes to
halt just as it had his bike. 

                There were only a couple of undead
gut-suckers wandering the street.  Dean knew that in times of great crisis
people would flock to their churches.  People who hadn’t seen the inside of a
church in years would suddenly feel a burning need to be close to God.  All of
these cars had carried people here, to this church.  The cars were lined neatly
along the curb, but where were the people?

                Dean shuddered as the reality of it hit
him.  They were all inside the church.  That church was packed full of bodies,
whether those bodies all lay dead and decaying or if they were up and shambling
and damned hungry he had no clue.

                There were two doors on the Sixth Street
side of the building, one on both the North and South corners.  Dean thought
for a moment that if he could draw whatever was in there out one door he may be
able to go in through the other while they were busy exiting.  He checked his
day-kit to see if he could find anything that he could use to get the attention
of any zombies inside the building. 

                He almost laughed out loud when he found
three packages of firecrackers he had forgotten were in the bag.  He remembered
that he had used the bag to pack around some fireworks the last time he and a
bunch of friends had gone out to the lake, nearly two years ago. 

                Two zombies still shuffled aimlessly in the
street.  “You two could be a problem,” he whispered to himself.  He did not relish
the thought of killing anything. These past three weeks had been quick with
lessons, and he knew that he had to do what needed doing.  Not just for
himself, but for those he cared about. 

                Dean laid his bike quietly against the curb
next to the Wade Stables tax building, and withdrew the SOG FastHawk he carried
in his belt, enjoying the heft of the axe.  Staying low he moved up the line of
cars, keeping his targets in view.  He noticed that the man’s face and shirt
were bloody, but he was nothing but clean compared to the gore that covered the
woman’s dress.  Once he drew even with the closest zombie he sidled between a
dented minivan and a sleek new sedan. 

He waited quietly until the
shuffling creature went by him again.  The back of the woman’s dress was just
as bloody as the front had looked from a distance.  He followed her with his
eyes, waiting for just the right moment.  And there it was.  He leaped up
quickly, axe raised high, ready for the strike.  He didn’t know if he scuffed
his shoe or kicked a rock, but suddenly she turned and he was looking into the
blank cataract covered eyes of a human being. 

Axe still high Dean hesitated, Ms.
Bloody Dress didn’t.  She stepped into him and he fell into her.  He could feel
teeth clamp like a vise on the muscle between the neck and the shoulder.  He
yelled, pushing against her, and he could feel her let go just as quickly as
she had clamped on to him. 

Losing his balance, Dean reached
out and caught the sleeve of her dress while swinging the SOG axe hard at her
skull.  He buried the spike point into her head and they both went down, Dean
sprawling on top of her. 

Dean heard a groaning noise,
suddenly remembering the other zombie on the street.  He jumped up quickly,
attempting to jerk the axe from the dead creature’s skull.  Two jerks, three
jerks, ‘
This shit always looks easy on T.V.
’ he thought.  The second
zombie was closing on him faster than he expected, which caused another burst
of adrenaline.  On the fifth jerk the skull-caught axe snapped free.

Ms. Bloody Dress’s head thumped
back to the concrete hard, if he had time to think about that awful sound Dean
knew it would be with him for a long time.  But there wasn’t time to dwell on
it, as the groaning zombie was only a few shuffling steps away. 

Dean braced himself, letting it
come to him.  Arms raised, hollow eyes fixed on him, Dean half expected the
creature to start moaning “Braaaaiins, Braaainnns.”