Survive (18 page)

John stood up and walked toward Sara and Dierdre, a worried look on his face. “Is everyone alright? Sara, was anyone bit?”

Sara shook her head. She slammed a new magazine into her carbine.

“I don’t think so. Margaret fainted.” She turned around and looked at her mother.

Deirdre looked at John and tried to say something, but the words wouldn’t come out. Frustrated, she raised her rifle and pointed it at him. John had one terrible second where he saw the flash from the barrel. He never heard the sound as the rifle fired.

Pain lanced through his left arm, causing him to spin around. As he spun, he came face to face with another Zed, mouth stretched wide, hungry for him. He pulled the MP5 up and fired, killing the Zed just as it reached him. It slumped to the floor at his feet.

“Mom! You shot John!”

* * *

John ran from the room, leading the way. He carried Margaret over one shoulder, his MP5 slung over his other one. He carried his Sig P220 in his right hand, pointed in front of him. Sara followed, her gun held at eye level as she swiveled left and right, looking for danger, remembering how John had taught her to clear a house. The school children as well as the children of the Mason clan followed, with Dierdre bringing up the rear.

As they ran she whispered loudly. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to shoot him, Sara.”

“I know mom, shush!”

“But do you think he’s mad at me?” Dierdre whispered, shooing the children in front of her.

“Mom.”
“Alright, dear, but he’s not mad at me, is he?”

“MOM!”

They reached the little cabin John and Sara shared, and ushered the kids inside after John had cleared it. Princess and Fish came last, their fur matted with Zed blood. They stood protectively over the frightened little ones as they fell to the floor, exhausted.

John tied a kitchen towel around his bicep and then headed back toward the door. “Jose’s with Roy at the northern barricade and the southern one is about to fall, if it hasn’t already. Get in the basement and lock yourselves in. If the barricades fall, I’ll try to get back here with the dump truck and get us out of here.”

Sara nodded. She threw a handful of full magazines to John. He slammed a new one into his MP5 and ran out the door, leaving Sara behind him with a world of words left unsaid.

* * *

“Barricade’s in place, but you better come down here,” Jose’s voice crackled over the radio.

“Negative, Jose. Be ready to get the hell out of there if I give the signal,” John said as he ran for Truck’s pickup. He pressed the talk button again. “Uncle Patrick? You still there?”

At exactly that same moment, a huge fireball lit up the darkening sky in the direction of the southern barricade.

“Oh crap.”

The fireball lifted up into the sky, dissipating as it rose. An angry red glow remained behind, telling John something was still burning.

“What the hell was that!” Jose’s voice rang out over the radio.

“Language!” Deirdre’s voice shot back. She must have still been holding the button because John could hear Sara in the background yelling, “Mom, give me that!”

“Sit tight, Jose. I’ll check it out.” John yelled as he drove Truck’s pickup toward the southern barricade. He reached it in minutes. As he pulled up, he saw figures lit from behind as flames licked up behind the barricade, on the road side. Then he saw Patrick waving down at him, laughing.

John climbed up onto the barricade. Amazingly, most of the Mason clan seemed to be on top, crowded in next to some of the newcomers and the Kensingtons. The road on the other side was on fire, stumbling figures moving about in the flames. As he watched, more and more of the Zeds from the road walked forward into the flames, trying to get to the barricade.

“What the hell?” asked John.

“Jack threw a hose over the side and started pumping gas through it. The Zeds want to eat us so bad they keep walking into the flames. Looks like fire kills ‘em pretty good!”

“What was that big fireball?” John saw the wave of Zeds up the road finally start to thin out as more Zeds pushed forward into the hellish fire.

“Morgan threw a propane tank into the pack down there and shot it.”

“Blew up real good!” Morgan shouted.

“How are you set for ammo? You got this under control?” John asked, glancing in the direction of the other barricade.

“Yeah, we got it. Go find my granddaughter.” Patrick patted John on the back as he started down the ladder.

John drove up to the barricade. Jose and Roy were standing on top, watching the road. John climbed up the ladder onto the barricade. “How’s it look?”

“Got one a few minutes ago, but nothing since.” Jose stared out over the road, a new, steely expression in his eyes.

“What did you want me for?”

“I found your cousin. Better go look inside the barricade.”

John climbed back down and walked to the little door on the side. He peered in side. A flashlight rested on the floor, pointing at a hunched figure. Another figure lay on the floor. John aimed his MP5 at the figure. He slowly walked up behind it.

He raised the gun, ready to fire, when Marta turned around and looked up at him. Tears streamed down her face. A rifle lay on the floor next to her. In front of her, John saw Alison’s body, laid out with her arms crossed over her chest. A savage wound had opened her stomach. Bloody cloth lay over the wound, the remains of her shirt.

John leaned down past Marta and saw a neat little hole in Alison’s forehead. He looked back at Marta. “What happened, Marta?”

Marta stared blankly at Alison. “We tried to hold them off, but there were so many. We thought it would be okay, but there were just so damn many. They started pushing the container aside. Alison’s gun jammed, but I kept shooting. She fell off and they got her.” She started sobbing. “She was screaming so loud...they started pulling her away. I jumped down and got her away from them. She was still alive.”

John remained silent, letting her continue.

“I dragged her inside here and locked the door. I’m sorry, I know they got past us,” she sobbed. “I held her until she...I had to do it, John. I don’t even know if she heard me say I loved her one last time. I had to do it myself, John.”

John knelt down and hugged Marta quietly as she sobbed. Jose jumped down off the container and walked inside. John motioned to him and he came over, kneeling beside Marta. The two remained there, two partners in mourning, as John walked outside.

* * *

They brought Truck Robin’s body back from the barricade as the first rays of morning sun shined down over the valley. He’d died moments before they’d lit the flames on the road, protecting Jack as he moved the hose into place. He’d saved everyone, they said. No one argued, though it was precious little comfort for his wife, Jill.

They buried Truck, Tina, Alison, and two of the newcomers, Eric Knowles and Paul Rubenstein in the little graveyard next to Harold Mason at noon. It was a subdued service, with a lot of tears, both for the dead and for the survivors.

The Kensingtons buried their dead as well, having lost half of their able bodied folks. Jack Kensington was not one of them, and John was thankful for that.

Smoke still curled up into the sky from June Mason’s smoldering house. It had burned down to the ground with no one to put the fire out.

“This is bad, Patrick.” John said to the elder Mason after the last body had been buried.

“You mean, worse than I can see with my own eyes?”

“Half of our food was in my mom’s basement. We used way too much ammo in that fight. And now, the Kensingtons are going to be hard pressed to keep a guard at the barricade over there.”

“Oh, that. Yeah. And, don’t forget, it’ll be even harder for us to get that fence built now.”

“Thanks, Uncle Patrick. I needed to be reminded of that.”

Patrick nodded quietly, wiping away the last tears he would cry for his granddaughter Alison, and walked away.

* * *

John approached Sara from behind, wrapping his arms around her waist, surprised that she didn’t jump.

“I knew it was you,” she said, answering his unasked question like only his wife could.

“Umm, sweetheart, are you humming the alphabet song?” John asked.

Sara smiled. “You didn’t notice we were shooting the Zeds to the tune of the ABCs? Figures. It was the only thing I could get the kids to sing together. They were so scared, and I wanted to get their minds off everything happening in the hunting shack, Margaret’s, too. And believe me, they were happy to be singing. We should see if any one of the people Jose brought is a therapist or social worker. It’s a long shot, but those kids need to talk it over with somebody. They lost their parents and have seen worse things than any horror movie.”

“Good idea, I’ll check tomorrow. By the way, speaking of parents. Your mom...”

Sara looked at John inquisitively. “What’s wrong?”

“Well, she just won’t leave me alone! She keeps apologizing for shooting me.”

Sara looked at the fresh bandage on John’s arm. “I told her it was just a scratch.”

John nodded. “So did I. She won’t stop.” He winced as he saw Dierdre walking towards them. “I gotta go!”

Sara laughed, yelling “Scaredy cat!” as he ran off into the woods behind the cabin.

* * *

John saw Jose sitting by himself. He seemed to be talking to someone, but there was no one present. John made a little extra noise as he approached, not wanting to scare the teen.

Jose turned around. “Oh, hey, John.”

“Hey yourself,” John said as he approached. “Who are you talking to?”

Jose moved to the side, letting John see what was in front of him. The decaying head of his friend, Eddie, sat on rock between Jose’s feet. The milky white eyes stared up at them, moving back and forth between them.

John didn’t know what to say. He just stared at the poor boy’s best friend.

“Look, man, I’m going to get rid of it. I just had to tell him about Tina. Didn’t have anyone else, you know?”

John nodded. “Whatever you need. But you know, you have your sister, and your mother, and me. And everyone else here as well. We’re all family now, Jose.”

Jose sat quietly for a moment. Then he nodded, almost to himself. As the Mason compound smoldered around them, yet somehow remained full of life, he drew his razor sharp katana and brought it down on the Zed’s head.

Chapter 12

Fall 2010

Brattleboro, Vermont

After the Battle of the Barricade, as the Mason clan took to calling it, things quieted down for awhile. John and Sara spent the next few days assessing and repairing the damage caused by the rampaging Zeds.

Both barricades were strengthened and improved. The fence the Masons had wanted to build was put in place, first with a ten foot high chain link fence, then later reinforced by cut logs placed upright into the ground behind the chain link. This feat of engineering was made possible only by the discovery and safe return of twenty-three survivors who had taken refuge in an apartment building just outside of town. After searching nearby homes for food, ammunition, and other supplies, they’d also found about a dozen more survivors who gladly joined the Masons in their compound.

The newest survivors had integrated well with the family and the remaining Kensingtons. Two simple log cabins had been erected almost overnight by the enterprising folks, and acted as dormitories for most of those who remained homeless after the attack and fire. A handful of the survivors went to live with the Kensingtons as they began to rebuild their own compound.

John and Sara Mason took in Dierdre and Jose Maxwell, as well as three of the children who had been rescued from the elementary school. Tommy and Tammy Bridges, ten year old blond twins, and Marisa Heddy, a very precocious eleven year old who insisted on calling her pig tails “puppy tails” moved in with the family. Despite John and Sara cleaning up the basement and building simple beds for the children, the little cabin was crowded, however it felt strangely alive. Enthusiastic Princess and Fish, his backside healing, delighted in the constant attention they received from the energetic children.

Sara, amidst the sighs of the youngest folks, put the little hunting shack to good use and turned it into an acceptable schoolhouse. She took all of the orphaned children as well as the Mason clan kids and taught them as well as she could with the few books she had. Despite the fact that their ages spanned from toddler to pre-teen, the kids thrived under the structure and activities she provided. John was happy to see the smile on her face when she’d come home from the little school after a long day of teaching hungry minds, and his pride for her grew as he watched Tommy and Tammy compete to see who could multiply higher digits. Sara used what little she had, but lamented the lack of books and other basic supplies. John added them to his growing mental list of things needed by the group.

John was also happy to learn Sara was helping the children cope with their situation. Many of them awoke from petrifying nightmares and had been having a hard time dealing with the loss of their parents and everything familiar to them. Sara had been sitting alone with each of them throughout the day, miraculously finding one-on-one time with each child as she could. She encouraged the children to express themselves, and as the older students journaled their feelings, the younger ones painted and drew. She allowed them to use their few precious art supplies and bits of paper to give them an outlet to express some of the horror they’d been bottling up inside. When the paints ran out, she taught a lesson on how clothes were dyed originally using things from the environment and taught the children how to make paints using crushed flowers and leaves.