Surviving The Zombie Apocalypse (Book 1): Sanctuary (40 page)

“Took
you long enough,” joked Mary. “You’re very slow for a mechanic. I was getting
worried that we wouldn’t be able to take all stuff Jacob and Lizzy piled in
there.”

“I’ll
try to get better, so I can meet your exacting standards,” he replied, dryly.

She
giggled. “Good that you know your place.”

“They
have extra gas too,” he added, “lots of cans of it, probably for farm stuff.
There’s a generator also.”

“Can we
cart that back?” I asked. “Eric will be overjoyed being able to use power
tools. I know we can get generators in
Chadron
, but it might speed things up.”

“I want
a television and blu-ray player,” said Mary. “I want movie night on something
other than a laptop.”

“They
did have a flat screen inside,” pointed out Lizzy, “and plenty of DVDs.”

“The
trailer has two sections,” said Steph. “The front is for supplies. It’ll fit in
there, no problem, along with the gas cans and feed and other stuff. We can put
the cows in the back portion.”

“Will
the cows hurt each other with their horns?” asked Briana.

“Not
likely. We just need to move slow and steady, especially when we’re crossing
the meadow. That’s going to be the tricky part. I’d like to empty them right
into a corral, so it’s best to try at least. The four here are all ladies, the
little ones their calves. They’ll fit easy too, with lots of room.”

“And
lots of milk for us,” added Mary.

“You can
milk these, sure,” confirmed Steph, “but they aren’t dairy cows. You won’t get
as much. We’ll need a bull from somewhere too, at some point.”

The next
hour was spent maneuvering the heavy generator into the trailer along with the
television, which we wrapped in blankets, the movies, and anything else that
looked worthwhile. The work was done quickly and without incident, aside from
Mary attempting to sneak upstairs to see the zombie baby. Lizzy caught her and
proved, much to the girl’s shame, that she wasn’t too old to be tossed over a
knee and spanked. Bear in mind that Lizzy is no weakling, and she struck Mary
as hard as she could, screaming the entire time about how she wasn’t going to
let the little blonde spend the rest of her life having nightmares, followed by
comments as to how Lois would probably do worse when she found out.

Mary
didn’t say a word after that, not even as we struggled to get the irritable and
skittish cattle into the trailer. It was Steph who finally managed to entice
them in with some treats, sugar or something. I’m not sure what she used.

*
* *

“Third
and final farm,” said Briana on the radio. “There’s a truck and a Mercedes in
the driveway.”

With
Steph driving slowly, accompanied by Mary who refused to travel with Lizzy, we
were more strung out than usual, something I did not like.

“Interesting
combination that. We have a zombie too.”

“Shoot
it,” ordered Lizzy.

Briana was
still looking a tad pale, so I dropped the zombie the moment we pulled up in
the drive. The others arrived in short order, parking nearby, except for Steph
who remained on the road. She wasn’t used to the extra long trailer, and didn’t
want to try backing out with it.

My
sweetie pointed. “Hey, we got more of those things.”

There
were three additional animal trailers, all painted the stereotypical white, in
a row beside a small barn.

“We come
back for them later,” I said. “Actually... Alec, if you can start the pickup
we’ll attach one to it, one to your truck, and one to Lizzy’s Jeep. We can take
all of them. They’ll be useful.”

“Why not
your Jeep?” demanded Lizzy.

“No
hitch on the back of mine. I had it fitted out for off road driving, not
hauling.”

“Well, I
don’t know how to drive with one.”

“Have
Mary drive the Grand Cherokee,” I suggested.

Lizzy
glared at me, but Mary seemed delighted.

“I’ll do
that. I know how. Lizzy can drive the pickup. I don’t suppose we’re taking the
Mercedes.”

“You are
not driving the Jeep,” stated Lizzy.

Mary’s
face began to fall.

“Fine,”
she relented. “You can drive back, but I’m going to sit next to you and watch
to make sure you don’t die.”

“Wasn’t
your license revoked?” One look, considering Lizzy’s exceptionally foul mood,
told me that question was a mistake, but it was neither the first nor would it
be the last, not by a long shot.

“That
was for street racing!” she shrieked. “I’m a good driver!”

Definitely
more volatile than normal.

Briana
chose that moment to intervene. “Mary can drive the Wrangler with Jacob
watching. Steph, Alec, and me all get a pickup and trailer. You get your Grand
Cherokee with a trailer. That works out for everyone. Besides, Mary doesn’t
need to be learning to drive while dragging one of those things.”

A
thirteen year old driving my Jeep! My heart rate was accelerating, though the
logic was sound.

“How
many damn trucks do we need anyway?”

“Forget
those Lizzy. It’s the trailers we want.” I tried not to think of what might
happen to my Wrangler with Mary behind the wheel. “If we take them when we go
out scavenging we can haul a lot back, far more than we have been. Plus, we’ll
be going out for more livestock. We can’t just hope to find the things every
time we search a farm.”

“Fine.
Fine. Fine.” She stomped up to the door and kicked it open. “Come out zombies,
so I can shoot you in the fucking head! Well? Another empty house.”

The
search was fairly typical, so I won’t go into too much detail. We grabbed the
standard things, including quite a bit of liquor, mostly bourbon and vodka. We
also took a second television set and all the movies we found. There were a lot
of a cartoons – children had lived here – and I made sure to take the toys as
well. It should be enough to keep the kids at our camp occupied for a while.

In the
rear we found a chicken coop. There weren’t many left alive, and those which
were did not look good. There was an open feed bag in the corner, but it seemed
they’d been out of water for some time, probably drinking from puddles when it
rained. We loaded the rooster into a portable cage and the hens in some others.
The rooster was particularly feisty, but it turned out that I did not require
any stitches.

“Poor
Jacob,” laughed Lizzy, sarcastically and with more viciousness than normal, “got
his ass kicked by a chicken.”

“Yeah, I
did. You can get the goats loaded up.”

These
people had clearly liked having animals about. The cattle appeared healthy and
had water from a stream and plenty of grass to eat, so we left them for now.
They also had goats in a separate corral with its own barn. These had been
eating from one of those giant round hay bales and drinking from a huge trough.
The water was running low, but they’d likely be good for a while longer, maybe
a couple of weeks. We had room however and decided to bring them along. There
were no horses to be found, although we did pack up three saddles and the
related tack.

“How am
I supposed to get the fucking goats into the trailer?” she demanded.

“Bribe
them with food, like Steph did the cows,” suggested Briana.

“Goats
eat cloth,” said Mary. “You can take your shirt off and use it as bait.”

Mary had
not yet forgiven Lizzy for punishing her, but she was getting close.

“Go give
the chickens more water,” snapped Lizzy, “and I’m not getting undressed in
front of all of you.”

“Thank
God for that,” I said softly.

Briana
began to laugh.

“What
did you say?”

“Nothing
that’s going to improve your mood. Go put the goats in the trailer. It’ll be
dark in another three hours. If we stop dawdling here we can get back with
plenty of light to spare.”

Interlude – Eric’s Story

Eric has
a rather interesting back story. Most of the survivors we’d encountered to that
point left the cities early in the apocalypse, such as Briana and myself.
Others were in the wilderness from the beginning, as with Susan and Timothy.
None were holed up in a town for weeks on end. Lizzy came close, but her
experiences were nothing compared to Eric’s.

He was
in his apartment, awake and playing World of Warcraft on his computer, when the
change struck. Eric’s first indication that something strange was happening
came when another player typed in a query asking if anyone was watching the
news. Eric was busy killing digital life forms and didn’t pay much attention.
The player suddenly went offline, and another, then more. His curiosity
aroused, Eric got up and turned on the television.

He
watched the initial, confusing news casts, and as soon as he had a fair grasp
of what was happening, Eric telephoned his mother. She was living in a retirement
community in
Florida
, enjoying the sun and warm
temperatures.

“Mom,
are you okay?”

“What is
it Eric?” she asked, sleepily. “I think I dozed off after eating breakfast.”
She had always woken before the sun, as long as her son could remember. “I need
to get these dishes in the sink.”

“Forget
about that. Have you seen the news?”

“Now
Eric, you know I don’t watch that sort of thing. It’s always so depressing.”

He tried
not to scream in frustration. “Mom, listen to me. Lock your doors and turn on
the television.”

“Hang on
dear,” she replied, not really paying attention. “Someone’s knocking.”

“No!
Don’t go out. You don’t understand what’s happening!”

It was
no good. She had already set the phone on the table.

“What is
it Edie?” asked his mother in the distance, the words barely audible.

“Let me
in!”

“Well,
come on in. Why the rush?”

Eric’s
head was pounding. Now was not the time for one of her episodes. His mother
wasn’t senile or suffering from Alzheimer’s, but her brain sometimes sputtered,
preventing her from understanding things, at least without having them
explained slowly and repeatedly. It was one of the reasons he’d moved her into
the assisted living center two years earlier.

“Close
the door!” shrieked Edie. “Hurry!”

There
was the unexpected sound of struggling and a thump as something hit the floor.
Eric heard screams, one that might have come from his mother.

“Mom!”

There
was no answer, only silence. He stayed on the line regardless, hoping, praying
for something. Then the connection was severed. When he called back, all Eric
got was a busy signal. With a curse, he ripped his telephone from the wall and
flung it across the room. What was he going to do? Grabbing the remote, he
turned the television sound back up – he’d muted it while making the call – and
saw that things were getting worse. People were being told to remain at home,
to stay indoors. Well, that sounded sensible, and it wasn’t like Eric could get
in his truck and personally check on his mother. She was on the other side of
the country. He was of the mind to try though, until he looked out the window,
shortly after sunrise.

Eric
watched helplessly as a pair of zombies caught a kid, maybe eight or nine years
old. The girl had tried to run between them, but the first snagged her long
hair, stopping her cold. The second, in its rush to reach the child, tripped
and fell. Then it took advantage of its position and grabbed her leg, biting
into the soft flesh of her calf. The original zombie sank its teeth into her
upper arm, tearing off a long strand of muscle. More were drawn by the screams.
She tried to limp away, but only made it a few feet before they fell upon her.
Horrified, he turned back to the news, with only occasional glances outside.
Eric did not see the unfortunate girl reanimate, but he did spot her shambling
about later.

When his
cell rang, he grabbed it, praying it was his mother.

“Eric!
Thank God I got you. I’ve been trying to reach somebody, anyone.”

“Who’s
this? Brittney?”

“Yes!”

Brittney
Stevens was the secretary at the construction company where Eric worked.

“Are you
okay?” he asked, wondering why she had called him. They’d never gotten along
and were nowhere near being friends.

“No, I’m
not okay!” She struggled to calm herself. “Have you seen those things?”

“I… I
watched them kill a little girl outside.”

“God.
That’s… I saw them bite…” Brittney was beginning to cry. “I need you to come
get me Eric.”

“Get
you? Why? Where are you?”

“In my
apartment. I was going outside for work, not knowing, but they saw me. They’re
banging on my door! Please, you have to help me.”

It was
becoming difficult to make out her words.

“Okay.
Where do you live?”

“I’m in
the same complex as you!”

That
came out clearly.

“Really?
Where exactly?”

“Building
at the end, number 7A, first floor. Oh God! The door’s starting to crack!
Please hurry.”

“I’m
coming. Don’t hang up. I’m leaving my cell phone on.”

He
slipped it into his shirt pocket, picked up his keys, and stopped. He needed
something to fight with. Eric looked about frantically and settled on the
baseball bat sitting in the corner. He’d played in high school and sometimes
went to the batting cages for fun. The wood was solid. It was heavy. It would
have to do.

Bat in
hand, Eric ran out of the apartment and straight for his truck. Some zombies
veered in his direction, including the little girl, but they were slow and too
far away to reach him before he was inside the pickup and moving.

“Brittney,”
he said, into the phone, “I’m almost there.”

“Thank
God!”

Eric
pulled up near her building. There were three zombies banging on a door. He
couldn’t see the number, but it had to be hers.

“Can you
see me out the window?”

“Yes! I
see your truck. What do I do?”

“Let me
try to distract them.” He honked the horn, and the zombies turned toward him.
“Oh, crap.”

“What is
it?”

“They
left your apartment. Damn, the door is cracked good, right in the middle.
Anyway, they’re coming for me. I don’t see how… Wait! Stay there. I’m going to
back up. When they’re almost at me, I’ll drive forward again, and you can run
out and jump in the truck.”

“Okay
Eric… I can’t see you anymore!”

“I’m
still here,” he said. “I’m one building down. Just a few more seconds. I want
them to move well away from you. Okay, I’m going forward again. You look clear.
Come on out.”

He
stopped by her building, and Brittney rushed out. She sprinted around the front
of his pickup and grabbed the door handle.

“It’s
locked!” she shrieked.

He
quickly hit the button.

Brittney
jerked it open and climbed inside. The moment she slammed the door shut, he
secured them again.

“Asshole!”

“Sorry.
I didn’t even think about it.”

The
zombies were almost on them, and he hit the gas, pulling forward out of the
parking lot and into the street.

“Where
do we go?” he asked.

“I don’t
know. Anywhere away from here.”

Eric rounded
a corner and was immediately struck by another vehicle. The pickup went
spinning to the side where it collided with a parked car before coming to a
stop. He was spared the worst, but Brittney was a different story. She wasn’t
wearing a seat belt and, air bag or not, she’d bounced about badly.

“Are you
okay?”

She
groaned but didn’t open her eyes. There was blood streaming down her face, and
the passenger side window was cracked where her head slammed against it.

He tried
to start the engine, but it was dead.

“Brittney?
We really need to go.”

There
was no response, and Eric stumbled out of the pickup, pausing briefly to look
at the SUV that hit them. There was someone in the front seat, slumped over the
wheel, but the man wasn’t moving. He then scooted around the rear and pulled
open the passenger door.

“Hurts,”
she stammered, barely coherent.

“I got
you.”

He
pulled the woman out, slinging her over a shoulder, one arm across her thighs.
There were zombies everywhere, along with a scattering of normal people, none
of which were close enough to help, even if they’d been so inclined. He set off
at a fast walk, zombies following or moving to intercept. Brittney wasn’t big,
but she was still too heavy to run with.

“Wake
up,” he ordered. “Brittney, can you hear me?”

There
was a mumble, maybe. Possibly it was his imagination. The woman had gone
completely limp.

The
zombies were closing from all sides. Where was he going to go? There! The alley
was narrow, but it looked clear. Eric almost made it too, but he stumbled and
went down on one knee. Pain shot through his leg as it hit the concrete, and he
struggled to keep a grip on Brittney. He managed to rise, but the delay was too
much. Eric felt something grab her.

“No!”

He tried
to maintain his grip but felt cold hands touching his shoulder. The jerking on
Brittney grew stronger, and she was pulled free. Spinning, he saw her fall to
the pavement, the crowd of zombies bending down to feed. Eric could do nothing
but run away.

*
* *

An hour
later, he’d been joined by three others, including Steph. They were on foot,
trapped on a back street near the center of town. The roads were a mess with
wrecks everywhere and an ungodly number of zombies wandering around. They
didn’t know what to do or where to go.

“We
can’t stay here,” said Jose, a day laborer whom Eric had worked with several
times.

“I know.
Have any ideas? I’m open to pretty much anything.”

“One’s
coming.” He pointed.

“It’s
alone. Want to try fighting or run?”

They
knew zombies could be killed. Earlier, in the distance, Eric watched as a man
shot one in the head, dropping it for good. Another had stopped moving after it
was run over by a car.

“I will
bash it,” said Jose.

The man
stepped forward and nearly took the zombie’s head off with a powerful swing of his
crowbar. The thing fell to the ground.

“Yes!”
he shouted, pumping a fist in the air.

“Another
one!” yelled Eric.

Jose
turned to see the second zombie shamble out from behind a school bus. It was
only a few feet away, and he instinctively extended an arm to hold it back. The
monster immediately targeted the bare flesh in front of it, grabbing the man’s
wrist and biting down hard. One finger was severed and the flesh stripped from
another. Jose screamed, and Eric rushed forward to pull him back as the zombie
wandered off, momentarily satisfied.

“It’s
pretty bad,” said Steph, using her silk scarf to bind the wound. The gushing
blood slowed but did not stop.

“Damn,”
muttered Jose. “So stupid, just stupid.” He began to swear.

“English,”
pressed Eric. “I don’t know what you’re saying.”

“Nothing
important.” He pulled the scarf off and rewrapped it, even tighter. “I’ll be okay,
I think.”

“More of
them,” warned Steph.

“What
are we going to do?” asked the other woman, sounding even more frantic than the
redhead.

“We… We
go inside,” replied Eric.

He
hurried to the nearest building, a small candle shop, and gave the door several
good kicks before the frame cracked.

“Everyone
inside.”

They
filed in, and he closed the door behind them.

“No way
to secure it,” gasped Jose.

Eric
looked around. “We’ll go to the back, over there.”

They
moved to the supply room. There were a pair of small file cabinets, and they
used these to barricade themselves inside.

“Rear
door opens up in the alley,” said Jose, checking. He closed and locked it.
“Loading area, some trash bins. Looked clear.”

They
heard the zombies enter the shop.

“Do they
know we’re here?” whispered the woman.

“I know
they saw us go into the building, but I don’t think they know where we are
now,” replied Eric, softly.

The
zombies shambled about, and they could hear the monsters bumping into tables
and knocking things over. Then there was silence. Eric allowed himself to
relax. When the doorknob unexpectedly rattled, the woman screamed. Banging
immediately began.