Zombie Dawn Exodus (19 page)

It was a small village petrol station with a shop
that was smaller than most children’s bedrooms. Someone has clearly
grabbed a few bags from this place before, but quite some time ago
considering the dust build up on the empty shelves. Many months
ago, people would just take what they needed short term, or as much
as they could fit in a rucksack. The more prepared and well
organised survivors that had made it through the first year knew to
never leave anything behind, unless it risked death or infection to
a group member.

Dave’s system revolved around his standard group of
four people and two vehicles. The drivers stayed at the wheels of
their trucks, parked at opposite ends of the location, whilst the
two navigators would raid for supplies. In an ideal world, he would
always have wanted six people for such a mission, but lives were
simply too valuable to risk.

The two navigators in this situation, Tommy and
Dave, each carried a large army Bergen on their backs, and pulled
along big wheeled bags behind them. Both men carried a club hammer,
the default and easily findable weapon for all members of the
group. These were carried on lines attached to their belts. They
also carried a few small bladed weapons, both for utility and
backup defence.

The small refrigerator that used to carry sandwiches
and other savoury snacks was completely empty. The shelves of
chocolate bars and crisps were only mildly depleted. The two men
began stuffing their bags with supplies.

“Oh, yeah!” shouted Tommy.

Dave looked around to see what had got Tommy so
excited, a shelf of corned beef, tinned hot dogs and beans. These
were the kind of luxuries to get excited about in the world they
lived in today. It was just a small shop, but it was a trip well
worth making. Dave leapt behind the cashier’s desk. A large amount
of tobacco and alcohol had been taken, but there was still plenty
left. The cash register was open and empty. This place had
obviously been done over soon after the Zompoc had begun, before
people realised quite what an apocalyptic scenario they were
facing.

In just a matter of two minutes they had filled
their bags with everything worth taking from the shop. They threw
the bags back into the vehicles. Clearly this station still had
plenty of fuel in it, but they were well stocked back at Everglade
for now, having copious amounts of red diesel stashed from all the
local farms. Dave looked out down the small street where about a
hundred yards away a solitary zombie was staggering towards
them.

“Let’s kill that fucker!” shouted Tommy.

Tommy jumped onto the side of the Land Rover, waving
his driver on. The vehicle lurched forward and raced towards the
single beast. Tommy, hanging on with one hand on the galvanised
roof rack, drew his club hammer from his belt. As the vehicle
stormed past the creature Tommy swung the hammer into the zombie’s
face, the speed and force sending it tumbling off its feet and into
the air. The creature slammed quickly down to the tarmac, its face
demolished by the blow. The vehicle turned around and pulled up
alongside Dave who was stood next to his vehicle.

“You see that? Fucking beautiful!” said Tommy.

“You’re an idiot,” said Dave.

“We have to start mopping up sometime,” said
Tommy.

“Not for killing it you idiot, but for being so
reckless,” said Dave.

“Just having some fun, you should try it sometime,”
said Tommy.

“Look, there are hundreds of thousands, maybe
millions of those creatures in this country alone, and just a
handful of us. One accident is more than we can afford, so start
acting with some god damn sense!” shouted Dave.

“Alright, alright, we going then?” asked Tommy.

“Yep, load up, we’re done here, time to go back and
maybe enjoy some of this,” said Dave,

“Mmm, sausages!” said Tommy.

Dave grinned as he got back into his vehicle. Tommy
was a reckless fool, but one could not afford to be picky about
choosing their friends in this day and age. The vehicles trundled
on back to the compound. It was a long and boring journey, though
the day was already beginning to cool slightly by the time they
reached sight of Everglade. It was the same place they had left
earlier in the day. So many of them were forced to simply keep
running and stay on the move after the Zompoc had begun. The chance
to have a home to return to or stay in each and every day was a
luxury they all appreciated.

It was already well into the afternoon when the
vehicles came to a halt within the walls of the compound. Roger was
there to welcome them as ever, to review their day’s haul and
assess any problems.

The work day was over for them now. Roger had a
number of the survivors working the land in an attempt to grow
their own food. This was only recently started and would take time
until they could see any results. It was quite clear to all of them
that scavenging from remnants of the old civilised world that they
used to know would go on for some time to come.

Dave went to bed that night, content in the
knowledge that the status quo had been maintained, and that they
were now in a better position than they’d been at the beginning of
the week. Sadly, he had no idea what disaster was about to ensue.
Richard, who had been ill after their rescue attempt, had
deteriorated in his own bed. No one had checked on him, having been
so annoyed at him for his foolish activities. Nobody had considered
the possibility of infection from the rescue at the
supermarket.

The close proximity with such large numbers of
creatures could easily have infected several of them, but the
elation of everyone being rescued had made them all throw caution
to the wind and forget all of their sensibilities and concerns.

Dave was awoken by the sound of screams, never a
pleasant sound, but especially when you knew they were more likely
a result of zombies than domestic violence. He was still mostly
dressed, as everyone stayed at least partly ready to move at all
times in the zombie infested world they’d come to know. He pulled
his boots on and picked up his club hammer. He ran out of the room
to find Graham stood in the corridor, looking down it, but too
scared to move.

They were on the second and top floor of the house,
the screams were from the first floor. Tommy joined Dave’s side and
Roger came rushing out of his bedroom, shotgun in hand. The double
barrel shotgun was the only firearm they had in the group, a
personal item Roger had owned since long before the Zompoc. Sadly,
he only had a handful of shells left for it, using most of them to
save his skin in the first weeks of the outbreak. One of the women,
Sandra, came running up the stairs.

“Help, help!” she shouted.

“What is it?” asked Roger.

“Zombies, they’re in the building!” she
screamed.

“Are you sure?” Roger asked.

“Yes, I saw Richard and Scott, they were already
turned. I couldn’t see how many more, but most of the floor,” said
Sandra.

“Shit!” shouted Roger.

Before they could think any more one of the zombies
was nearing the top of the stairs. Roger shouldered his shotgun and
fired off a round, the scatter shot obliterating the creature’s
head. The creature was Scott, one of their friends until a few
hours before, a man who had survived a year in this horrible
world.

The screaming and sounds of fear and pain got louder
as more and more of the building was being consumed. They had never
had much of a plan in place for this sort of situation, as they’d
only protected themselves from the outside world.

“How the hell could this have happened?” asked
Dave.

“Somebody must have got infected, it’s the only
way,” said Roger.

“But how?” asked Graham.

“After Tommy’s fuck up the other day, who knows,”
said Roger.

Before they could carry on the conversation the
sound of an engine roaring to life outside got their attention.
They ran to a side window in the hallway to look out. The Land
Rover Discovery was roaring towards the gates with no intention of
stopping.

“That’s my truck!” shouted Graham.

The armoured vehicle smashed through the gates,
knocking them both off their hinges. It was a dire sight for the
survivors that now stood together. Somebody had obviously been
selfish enough to bolt at the first sight of danger, with no
consideration for their fellow survivors. Had that not happened,
there was a chance of again purifying the complex, but not now.
With the gates down and a substantial number of creatures amongst
them, anything could happen in the time it would take to fully
clean up.

“What do we do?” asked Dave.

“As much as this is our home, it is now too
dangerous to stay here. Even if we could win the fight, the risk of
infection is too great and not just from these creatures, but any
that could flood through the gates, as well as infectious material
now scattered through the complex,” said Roger.

“But what about everything we’ve built here?” asked
Graham.

“It is irrelevant, all that matters is us, the
survivors. Buildings can be replaced, there are certainly enough
vacant ones around now,” said Roger.

“Right, then we need a way out,” said Dave.

“We have to get out of here in the shortest route
and time possible, with little fighting,” said Roger.

“Then we’ll take the stairs right to the hallway and
straight to the vehicles,” said Dave.

“Hopefully with all the confusion of those infected
that are still fighting we stand a chance of getting out,” said
Roger.

“Tommy, Graham, Dave, grab any gear you have and
meet me back here,” said Roger.

“What about the others?” asked Dave.

“What others?” Roger asked.

“The rest of the survivors here, they’re our friends
and family,” said Dave.

“Not anymore, those lucky and capable enough will
make their way out like us. Those that don’t are nothing more than
zombies, condemned to the same fate as all the other poor bastards
before them,” said Roger.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” shouted Dave.

“This is bullshit,” said Tommy.

Roger grabbed Tommy by his shirt and pulled him in
close.

“Look you moron, you’ve brought this shit upon us by
breaking the simple rules we lived by, so I don’t want to hear
anymore of your crap!” shouted Roger.

“Okay, guys. Chill out, this isn’t the time,” said
Dave.

Roger let go of Tommy and shoved him away.

“Indeed, we have to take stock of what we have. We
are at least all still alive and uninfected, let’s keep it that
way. Now grab your kit and get ready to move,” said Roger.

Graham, Dave and Tommy each strapped on all of their
personal armour and weapons as quickly as they could. Dave was
pulling his leg armour on when a second shotgun shot rang out from
the corridor. He stumbled out of the bedroom with the rest of his
kit in hand. Roger has taken the life of another creature. Dave
continued to pull on his equipment in the hallway as Roger reloaded
his shotgun.

“How many rounds you got for that?” asked Dave.

“These are the last two unfortunately,” said
Roger.

“That sucks,” said Dave.

“Indeed,” said Roger.

“Have you got any other weapons?” asked Dave.

Roger turned to reveal a military sabre hanging from
his belt.

“I’ve got this,” said Roger.

Dave knew well that it wasn’t a weapon well suited
to their task, but it’s what he had, and at least he felt safe with
it. Experience had taught all of them that most swords were not
particularly well suited to zombie slaying. The blades required
great skill to use effectively, were prone to damage, and often
difficult to use in many of the spaces they fought in.

“What can I do?” asked Sandra.

“Can you fight?” asked Roger.

“I made it this far didn’t I?” said Sandra.

“Dave, grab her a weapon,” said Roger.

Dave went into his bedroom and came back out with a
hammer, the typical household type. He kept it as a spare weapon
beside his bed and as a general tool. He passed it to her, it would
be far better suited to her than the bulky and heavy club hammers
he liked to use.

“Everyone ready?” asked Roger.

The group nodded.

“Now remember, there are likely ten or more zombies
in the building, potentially more since the gates were smashed,
these are not our friends anymore, even though they may look like
them. Dave, you lead the way, get us to the trucks as quickly as
you can,” said Roger.

“Alright people, let’s move!” shouted Dave.

They headed off along the corridor, none of them
wanting to journey down the stairs. This kind of pressure and
stress was something none of them had experienced or endured since
the first months of the Zompoc. The supply runs were so carefully
considered and planned that none of the men having to do them ever
had to face such a dangerous situation. Now, after all their months
of work and effort the entire complex had been compromised by one
stupid decision, one man who could not follow the simple and
careful rules that Roger had laid out.

They reached the top of the stairs. The screams were
lesser now, with perhaps only one person still making noise in the
building. That suggested that the entire two floors below them were
now hostile. All that Roger and Dave could now think was how much
more care they would put into internal security could they go back
and do it differently. They were already planning in their heads
how they would set up the next complex. The possibility of not
making it out of the building never crossed their minds. After a
year of survival, the possibility of failure and death was never
something that they gave a moment’s thought.

This group of five survivors now had the raw
determination and drive that any who survived had experienced in
the opening days of the Zompoc, the raw survival instinct. It was
this single track mindedness and ability to act that had allowed
all of these people to remain alive. They were hardened veterans of
the Zombie Apocalypse, and nothing would stop them.