The Last Blade Of Grass (3 page)

It took quite a while for Simone and me to come to terms with these things no longer being human. For us, there was and still is the remorseful thought that after the fever hits, these are technically just brain damaged people. Brain damage with extremely violent tendencies, but still the type of thing that in our former life would have been treated as a deadly disease or illness. The people who contracted it being afforded all the rights and protections as every other citizen of these former United States. Perhaps if it didn’t spread so fast and kill so many, that is exactly as it would have been. A bunch of brain fried violent individuals locked up in special medical facilities, and family members visiting them occasionally.

Coming to terms with things doesn’t seem to be the case for our kids. They are far more elastic since they are still learning about and processing the new information of life. Something seemed to click in our older kids and just made them deal with it. There should have been a great extent of screaming and crying, and while there was some, there wasn’t as much of it as even I would have suspected.

As a
responsible
father, before things fell apart, I had already exposed my children to scary movies. I told them about the zombie books I read, and they saw me play great video games with visually gory gun blasts and regular beheadings. I didn’t try to shelter them from violence the way some misguided people do. I exposed them to it and explained what they were seeing if explanation was needed. Knowledge truly is power, and not knowing truths about the world, such as how violent it can be, is a handicap to survival.

Once the world fell apart and we knew what we were dealing with, I didn’t lie and tell my family everything was going to be okay. I said we were going to have to fight to survive, and I directly explained to Hannah, Olivia, and William that if they yell or cry when they see an infected, the infected person will find us and kill us. From then on they made sure not to make noise when we told them to be quiet.

For Amelia and Benjamin, I’m mainly just concerned with keeping them alive. They watch and copy their older siblings like any young child does. These days, what they are copying is stealth and stillness rather than mimicking a phone call. This is the only world they will know, so they are being raised without the run free and yell when you feel like it mentality of the rest of our childhoods.

Chapter Two

Death and Goodbye

Now that we are near enough to see the fence line, there is another obstacle facing us.

We made it to our property in just ten minutes over the four hour mark. Before we bought the land, it was originally part of an equestrian ranch with riding stables. Our land is a 120 acre parcel that we chose as our retreat location in case things fell apart the way we feared it might. It is far enough away from the Medford area not only in distance but with winding roads and turns to make it hard to find by car. And the hills and woods make it difficult to reach without concerted effort on foot. But it is still close enough that we weren’t too far away from the town to make regular or daily trips impractical. Even though it would have worked for us as our main residence, it was more practical to have this as our retreat home. We also used the location as a training facility for people, to teach, and learn about outdoor living and survival.

The house where we actually lived before this disease started was right at the edge of Medford. I built a storefront on to it, so I could technically work from home, and have the kids nearby.

We had to abandon that house at the start of the outbreak because it was too close to the city. Looking back, I doubt that we could have made it out of Medford and to our retreat property safely if we had stayed for even a day longer than we did. Things fell apart incredibly quick that first day. I’m thankful we had another place to escape to, but especially that it was our own stocked survival training center.

There are multiple buildings and outbuildings on our property, but the main house now sits about one hundred yards from the fence. We chose to move the fence away from the buildings after a large attack by the infected hit us. We have a chain link fence surrounding about 30 acres of the property. This encloses the main house, the bunkhouse, two mobile homes, barn, stable, riding stable, storage buildings, and various smaller structures we put up to house extra survivors that came along.

Around that fence, and twenty yards out from it, is another hodge-podge of fencing and obstacles that we put together to funnel any persons or infected interested in entering our property toward the front gate area. There are fruit trees and gardens on both the inside and outside of the fences, but we cleared the larger trees to about twenty-five yards beyond the fence line to prevent an easily concealed approach. There are some trenches, trees, and large rock piles on the inside of the fence to allow for defensive positions, in case someone was attacking our home.

It is a decent setup as a prepper defending their homestead against a band of intruders or wandering infected. It is not so ideal when returning from a foraging outing to see someone you don’t recognize standing guard on the inside of the fence and no one you know in sight. And that is the obstacle and potential problem we are now faced with.

“Simone, I don’t see Arthur, Greg, or anyone else on the property. Hannah, do you see anyone through your binoculars?”

“No, Dad. I don’t see anyone but that man, and nothing is going on in the house either that I can see.”

I decide to huddle with everyone and discuss our options. “The situation obviously isn’t perfect, but it isn’t necessarily a disaster either. The man we don’t recognize is pacing back and forth more than guarding, and seems rather distracted. There aren’t any signs of a fight or battle on this side of the house, and this is the easiest approach, so here’s what I think we should do. One person in each direction will hug the woods and circle the property to see if there are any signs of bodies or a gunfight. That guy is definitely not infected by how he looks and acts, so we know the place wasn’t overrun by the diseased. If this was a hostile takeover, there should be some sign of a firefight from our people. So that’s what we’ll be looking for, signs of a fight. Sound good?” I watch as they respond. “You’re all nodding so who wants to go?”

Everyone offers to go except for Benjamin.

“Simone and Olivia, you two should go. Simone, take William with you. It will be good practice for his stealth and observation skills. Olivia, you go the opposite way and when you two meet on the other side, continue around to check if the other group might have missed anything.

“Hannah, you stay here with me. If there is any trouble from people on our property, I can hold off any advance. You will take Amelia and Benjamin east to our first fallback location, and everyone will meet there. And Hannah, if there are any problems with me, you protect your brother and sister and get them to the fallback location as well, does everyone understand?”

“There won’t be any problems, Eddie!” Simone offers a bit too anxiously.

“Simone, I am over four hours into a bite by an infected that had dexterity and could run. We don’t know if the six hour limit is certain or if there will definitely be a fever this time. I trust you to take care of the kids, and I trust Hannah to take care of me if she needs to, that's why she is staying here. Simone, I love you. I’m sure you are right, but we already don’t have much time. Let’s get moving.”

I can see the hurt and sadness in her eyes, but she knows the truth as much as I do. Our home means survival for our family. Even after we lost so many people when we were overrun, it has continued to be the place of safety for us.

We have little caches and fallback points around the extended property, but nothing beyond it. The odds of our family surviving intact were already slim and beyond the scope of odds in our favor. Without me in the picture, they won’t all survive without the house and its supplies, especially without the other families we have shared our survival experiences and supplies with. And to put it bluntly, I am already bitten and running on less than two hours’ time to get them in there before the fever hits. If a fever will still hit, that is.

Simone and William move off to the right, and Olivia to the left, disappearing into the trees from our view, within twenty yards. While they move off, Hannah steps back from me about ten feet and puts Benjamin and Amelia into a smaller pull cart that we have attached to the bike trailers. She unhooks the cart and sits down next to it, with her Ruger 10/22.

“Thank you, Hannah. Your mom is probably right as usual, but keep an eye on me anyway, okay? Even if we get into the fence line, you keep track of me while your mom and I deal with whoever is there, all right?”

Her face tightens up into a stern expression and she nods.

She was always a smart girl, all of our kids are smart for that matter, but I feel this huge regret that she can’t just keep being the girl that would get frustrated and cry because she couldn’t figure out how to read a new word, or how a game worked. Now she is playing an adult role in a world of everlasting horrors. She might have to shoot and kill me to protect herself and her brothers and sisters from this damn disease. And stoically, like a battle hardened veteran, instead of complaining or whining that she can’t and I mean too much to her, she simply accepts what is given to her, and recognizes her responsibility in this new life. I couldn’t be more proud of her. If she survives this mess, she and the other survivors will make much sturdier stock than the current devastated generation did.

The man behind the fence is definitely acting strangely. I’m watching him while I wait for the others to finish circling the property, and this guy is pacing erratically. It seems like he is supposed to be keeping watch out here, but he keeps looking back to the house and acting like those expectant fathers’ on television, nervously walking around outside a hospital delivery room. Still, I don’t hear anything unusual, and don’t see any activity on the property other than him.

At least when I approach the fence to speak with him, I know there won’t be any other roving patrols to contend with. If there were, I would have seen them by now. The area inside the fence just isn’t that large to hide anyone moving, at least not if they were watching specific areas near the front. And anyone else walking the perimeter of the yard would have made it around by now. So it will be him and me, having a simple discussion of who he is, why he is on my land, and where everyone else is.

“Marco?” a voice calls from the woods.

“Polo,” I reply.

Olivia walks out of the trees from the right, and Simone and William should be back shortly as well. We use the simple Marco Polo game to identify ourselves on the rare occasion we split up like this. We figure it’s a decent phrase that will help us identify normal human from infected, as well as let us know when someone from our group is returning.

The infected can’t speak, at least currently, and I hope they never regain that skill. All they do is issue this horrible slurping groan. It is a mixture of a growl and a gargle—deep, wet, and rumbling. It's an extremely disturbing sound that no human body should issue. They make it whenever they find prey that they can’t reach. It is another hunting instinct of theirs, I guess.

If they feel they can reach one of us non-infected humans, or an animal for that matter, they will remain silent. They’ll creep along slowly hoping to pounce on us, in an unsuspecting manner. If we are behind a wall or other obstacle, the infected can’t maneuver over or around. They make that sound, which I guess is more of a call, to their fellow infected that there is food nearby and they need help. Other infected always show up when that call is made.

“Did you see anything, Olivia?” I ask

“Yes, there is a small cart around the back of the house with some supplies on it. It doesn’t look familiar, so it probably belongs to that man. The usual scavenger survivor stuff is on it but also a sheet on the back with blood on it.”

“Marco?” we hear from off to our right.

“Polo,” I call to Simone.

“Anything else, Olivia?”

“No Dad, no signs of a fight. No brass on the ground. No marks on the house or holes in the fence. Everything seems mostly left alone.”

Simone walks up with William, “Hi sweetie, I’m glad to see you’re still here.” She has a sly but bittersweet smile.

“Tell me about it. I’m in no hurry to....” I start to joke about my condition but can’t say it. Not even in trying to keep the mood a little lighter.

I don’t like being bitten at all, and I know what I have to look forward to thanks to our experiences over the last few months. Simone was working as a nurse in one of the local hospitals, when management warned all of the staff to look out for anyone coming in exhibiting certain kinds of fevers or wounds consistent with human bite marks. Everyone was told that the CDC considered this a real threat for our area, and once they finished the briefing, Simone called me. After a short conversation where she told me about the threat, I made her promise to come home immediately. I’m not sure what excuse she gave, but she told them she might be gone for a few weeks.

As unlikely as the scenario was, she knew what a supposed zombie outbreak would sound like from the books that I read, and what I told her about them. The news reports of riots, random violence, and starvation in other countries due to the collapse of the world’s economies, already had everyone on edge. Fortunately for me, she was quicker to convince of the coming apocalypse than I was. When she called me at home and told me that the hospital reports were about zombies, I thought she was trying to play a joke on me. That is until she described what the hospital officials told her and everyone else.

The CDC warning mentioned violence, fevers, tremors, and they warned that symptoms are similar to rabies in that the people they have observed are all attempting to bite and eat other people. The worst part was, the hospital administrators lost contact with the CDC official they were speaking with after hearing screaming on the other end of the line, and were no longer able to contact other hospitals in that area.

So I’m not looking forward to the fever, the shivers, or especially the change and new hunger associated with being bitten. All I want right now is to get my family into our house.

“This is my idea, guys,” I say, getting everyone’s attention. “Hannah, you be ready with the laser on your 10/22. Turn it on if the man seems to get aggressive, or if I point my gun at him. Just point it at his chest so he can see the dot. All of you will stay here out of sight. I will walk up and call out to him. We should know pretty quickly by his reaction to me if he will get aggressive. If he doesn’t, I will slowly walk to the fence to make contact with him. I will explain who I am, unlock the gate and enter, or shoot him and then unlock the gate to enter. If I have to shoot at any point, be prepared to offer either supporting fire or retreat, depending on what happens.”

“Is everyone following me so far? Any questions... No? Okay. Remember I am already bitten, so if an army pours out of the house or outbuildings, I want no heroics to try and rescue me.” I give a stern look to everyone.

“Simone and Olivia, have your rifles handy, and be ready to run up to the house when or if I give the all clear. William, you stay on the binoculars, and keep an eye on everything but me and this guy. You need to see any potential surprises, all right? And tell Mom or Olivia if you see anything or anyone.”

“Hannah, you use your best judgment as to whether you should shoot the man or not. He is still human, but as you know, not all people are friendly. Just remember the story Mr. Margrove told us about his encounter and the men that tried to kill us all. Do you think you can do this, or should Mom do it?”

She gives me a serious and stern reply that shouldn’t come from a twelve year old. “I’ve got it, Dad. Just don’t block my shot.”