Six weeks later
I awoke to the sound of activity. It was roughly an hour before sunrise, looking at the sky outside my window. I could only see through the top six inches, the rest being reinforced by wood slats. But it was enough to let in a little light, and that was all I needed. I crawled out of bed and checked on Jake. He was still sleeping, tucked into a little ball with his butt in the air. I wondered for the hundredth time if that was comfortable, promising myself to try it sometime. But I covered him anyway, and got dressed, belting on my sidearm and field knife. Cleanup days were a bitch.
Essentially, the idea of a cleanup day was to remove all zombies killed the day or night before, burn the carcasses, and take out any that had been attracted by the noise of fighting. Thanks to my having to use a high-powered rifle, I figured there were lots of Z’s aimlessly wandering outside, bumping into each other and seeking a way in.
I went over to the window and climbed onto the small ledge that was part of the structure. Not being stupid, I very slowly raised my head to look outside. Zombies are attracted to movement, and if something in their vision suddenly moves, they will focus on the source. I didn’t worry about one trying to get in, but fifty could do some damage if they all focused on the same spot.
Peering over the boards I got a clear look at the outside grounds. There were about fifteen milling about the parking lot, and three or four strolling the grounds. Most of them were in pretty sorry shape, and one had somehow lost the use of its legs, dragging itself along the ground. There were some kids in the group, and I always felt bad for them, since they never really got a shot at life before it was taken from them. Two kids were dressed alike, making me wonder if they were brothers. I thought about Jake and swore once again he would never revive into the walking dead.
I was lost in my reverie when a zombie lurched into view, right in front of me. I had to resist the urge to step away, because again, the movement would have marked me. He was a young black man, his dark skin turning a deep grey with half of his scalp torn off. His left eye was missing and the other traveled around in lazy circles. His shirt was torn at the neck, and deep gashes, like claw marks, could be seen through the torn material. His right hand was clutching something, and what I thought was a stick at first was really a severed human finger. Lovely. I had to take all this in and remain motionless. If it was just me, I’d say to hell with it, and move, but I had Jake to worry about. So I got to watch Stinky shuffle on past. A small part of me wondered what had happened to me, how I managed to become so steeled at the sight of the living dead so close. I wasn’t always this casual. No, this wasn’t comfort, it was survival. If I let these walking corpses get to me, I’d be dead quickly, and my son right after. I guess that’s what made me so determined; I had something to live for and someone who needed me for their life.
When the danger had passed, I stepped off the ledge, making sure I moved slowly. This was one of the reasons why we put the newcomers and families on the second floor. They could leave their curtains open and look out all they wanted. Unless zombies learned how to fly, they didn’t have much to worry about. If zombies did learn to fly, we were all pretty much screwed, anyway. I was never any good at skeet.
Jakey was starting to stir, I was going to need to get out and get the clean up organized. Not really sure how I managed to become a kind of de facto leader of this little band of survivors, but since I used to be a school administrator, the leadership role wasn’t new.
I opened my door and literally bumped into Nathan Coles, one of our “trainers”. He was ex-National Guard, ex because his unit had been wiped out defending a last-stand position for the Governor of the state. On one of our raids, I had found him holed up in an attic, sick with flu and about a dozen zombies stumbling around the house wondering where the sneezing was coming from. Nate took in our newbies, taught them rudimentary judo and hold-breaking, and basic weapons use, from firearms to knives to improvised weapons. He was the one who taught me how to use the knife I had on my belt.
“Hey Nate! Good Morning!”
“Hey, John. How’s Jake?” Nate always asked about Jake. I think he may have lost his son in the Upheaval, but he never talked about it.
“Fine. Getting bigger.” I saw Nate’s eyes cloud over briefly and again figured there was a story there. “What’s the status on our cleanup?”
Nate grimaced. “We’re getting ready to head out. Tommy is on the roof and figures there are about thirty-two in the area. We have squads of shooters and squads of cleaners suited up and ready to go. Also, we’ve got some of people who aren’t happy that the families are exempt from cleanup.”
That surprised me. “Who’s making noise?” I had a feeling I knew what the answer was, but I have been wrong before.
“That new guy, Frank.” Nate said, with an irritated glance down the hallway.
I followed his look. Frank Stearns was talking to about three people, making a lot of hand gestures and faces. I made a mental note to deal with Frank later.
“Leave him to me. I’ll have a chat with him later.” I reassured Nate.
“You sure?” Nate asked. “He could have an ‘accident’ out there, you know.”
I looked at Nate. “Not my way, but I’ll keep it in mind. Maybe I’ll get lucky, he’ll screw up, and some zombie will have fresh Frank for dinner.”
Nate grumbled. “If you had luck like that I’d marry you.”
I laughed, “You’re too ugly for my taste.”
Nate walked past, shouting for the squads to assemble and check their gear. I hopped up the stairs and knocked on the door to Kristen’s room. A very sleepy head poked its way into the hall. “Hmmm?”
“Do me a favor and see if anyone is up enough to dress and feed Jake. I need to get out onto the grounds for cleanup.” I said to the blinking head in front of me.
“I think Kristin’s already downstairs, and Jessica’s still sleeping. I’ll ask Dawn, she’s up.” The head yawned.
“Thanks. Ten minutes?”
“’Kay.” The head withdrew. Process of elimination made Janice the girl I was talking to. Nate had found her on the roof of a gas station, having climbed there to escape a mob of zombies that had chased her out of her house. She faced death by dehydration or being eaten by zombies, so when Nate came charging in, she was more than willing to come along. Nate was a demon when it came to killing zombies. He was calculating, methodical, and deadly. He never panicked, and was silent as a ghost when he wanted to be. Just the man I liked to have around when raiding.
I headed down the stairs, thinking about out situation. We had a decent thing here, but there was no real life, no actual thought about the future. Was this the place I wanted Jake to grow up? Was this the place I wanted to grow old and die in? Off the bat, the answers were no. But I didn’t have a solution that was acceptable. Sure, I could say lets build an army and go kick ass, but logistically it was impossible. If most of the world was zombie or dead, that left roughly one million zombies per survivor. Not good odds by anyone’s standards. I did have some notions to work out, one being going back to my house to retrieve items left behind, if they hadn’t been stolen by looters, bad memories not withstanding. Another was an idea I wanted to float by Nate as soon as I could. But I had work to do now.
I walked into the commons area where the cleanup and eradication crews were assembling. Cleanup consisted of four squads, four people in each. Two people were chosen by flipping a coin and they were the ones who dragged the bodies to the burn area to be disposed of. The other two people in the squad provided cover and protected the unarmed draggers. The draggers had six-foot-long poles with large hooks attached to them. The dragger just had to shove the hook into the dead body’s collarbone or neck, and drag it off. Sometime the bodies were in weird places, and required careful manipulation of two dragger hooks. Eradication groups consisted of six squads, four people in each. One of the squad members each had long poles with larger hooks on them, the notion being to trip up the zombie and get him on the ground. Two other members had shorter poles, about six feet long that had a flattened rod attached perpendicular to one end, which then was rounded at the ends, creating a kind of “crescent moon on a stick”. One member would pin the zombie down around the torso after he was tripped, and the other would then pin the zombie by the neck. The fourth member had a short rod with a heavy pointed weight on the end which was used to bash in the zombie’s head when he was pinned to the ground. This method was invented by Nate when we realized we needed a relatively quiet and safe method of disposing zombie that strolled into our yard. It worked most of the time, sometimes there were problems, like when there were many of them and they began swarming. Then it came down to the Shooters — six men armed with rifles to hold a line and start eliminating. Every squad member has a sidearm, only to be used when things got overwhelming. Then one member was to drop his pole and then use his gun. The other members would use their poles to hold the zombies at bay until a head shot could be taken. All told, there would be 46 armed people out there, ready to do battle if needed. Sometimes they were needed, and more than once, they weren’t enough.
I looked at the group assembled, and found my Shooters. There were four of them, I made up the fifth. We had two jobs. We were to shoot the Z’s if they got too swarmy, and we were to act as decoys to get them to the eradication squads. Not too hard, but accidents happened. I looked over at Nate, and he nodded toward Frank, who was looking very glum as a Dragger. He held the pole as if he expected it to bite him, and I saw him looking over his shoulder at the other three members of his squad. Something tickled the back of my mind and I went over to Nate, who was checking the gear of an Eradicator whose pole seemed shaky. “Heads up, Nate.” Nate glanced at me. “What’s that, bro?” “I think we’re going to have some runners today.” Nate’s eyebrows went up. “Really? Your buddy?” “Yeah. I get the feeling he’s wanting to wander off, not liking the rules of this place.” “Some people are stupid that way. I kind of figured him for an opportunist.” I thought about that. “Let’s just hope he doesn’t get anyone killed.” Nate grunted. “If he does I’ll stake his sorry ass out on the lawn and cover him in ranch dressing for the Z’s” I laughed. “Roger that. Just giving you a gut feeling.” Nate smiled. “Your gut ain’t been wrong yet.”
I clapped him on the shoulder and went back to my shooters. I rounded them up and sent them to their assigned doors. I would head out the front door, and with luck, we should wrap this operation up quickly. Cleanup crews would head out when we called them, and we would all head for the baths for washing after.
I found my squad and we went through the routine of checking gear and tightening straps. No loose clothing was allowed, and guns were checked to make sure they were loaded and chambered. I lowered my goggles and jacked around into my carbine. For this work I preferred the AR-15 over my M1 Carbine. Thirty rounds of. 223 was enough for this work. I saved the M1 for serious work. I checked the window and made sure there were no surprises waiting outside the door. We had taped over the windows and had a thin slit for viewing. No Z’s were close to the door, although there was a middle-aged guy about ten yards out. He was first.
I flicked the safety off, braced my foot on the release bar of the front door, and shoved the door outward, moving into the morning light. I didn’t have far to go, and was immediately the center of attention of about seven zombies that had been milling about the parking lot before I popped out at them. They must have thought dinner was about to be served because as one, they started to move towards me and my group. We quickly fanned out and went towards the closest zombie. He reached a mangled hand out to take hold of the first guy he saw, only to go crashing down to the dirt on his face. The hook had taken out his legs. Immediately the two pinners jumped on him before he had a chance to get back up. One leaned in with the pole on his back and the other pinned his head to the ground. The basher ran in and with one hard swung to the top of the head, the zombie was finished. I focused on the remaining zombies and figured the teenage boy with the mutilated face was next, he was moving a little faster than the rest and would be closest. The other five were a little more spread out, and would not get to us in time.
My squad fanned out again, giving the Z multiple targets, which confused his poor virus-infected brain. He stopped and looked around, then focused on the pinner which was taunting him with a pole. He reached out and grabbed at the pole, which allowed the tripper to hook his ankles and drop him on his ass. The pinner then jumped on him, keeping his body down while the other one danced in to try and pin down his head. Trouble was, he was too slow, and the first pinner stepped too close. The zombie managed to grab hold of the pinner’s ankle and start to drag his foot closer to his gaping mouth. Chipped teeth bared and the other hand tried to grab the pole that was pinning him to the ground.
“Shoot him!” cried the pinner, grabbing my attention from the encroaching zombies, two of which had my undivided attention, as they were moving way too fast for comfort. “Shoot him!”
I had to move to get a shot, which was becoming difficult as the pinner had let go of his pole and was trying to rip his leg away from the zombie. The two other members were paralyzed, not sure of what to do.
“Please God, Shoot him NOW!” Screamed the pinner, kicking at the zombie who was grabbing now with both hands and trying to bring a flailing leg in for a bite. I stepped to the left and fired a shot, the report extremely loud in the morning. The round slammed into the zombie’s shoulder, knocking him off his victim, but definitely not out of the fight. His teeth ground together as a new moan erupted from his mouth, and he rolled over to get to his feet.
I was about to deliver another shot when my basher stepped in, and swinging his weapon like a baseball bat, crushed the zombie’s skull and dropped him like a bag of crap. I looked at the saved pinner and pointed to the gun on his hip. The idiot could have shot the zombie himself.
Two down and holy shit! I looked back to the other zombies and found two of them were way too close together for the squad to be effective. I lined up the head of one in my sights and just as a pulled the trigger, the son of a bitch ducked. What the fuck was that? It was like he knew I was shooting at him. He stayed in a crouched position and actually sped up to what I considered a fast walking pace. I dropped my sights and fired again, nailing him in the forehead and killing him for good. I switched my sights to the second one, but my squad had recovered their wits and moved in to kill this one. They actually surrounded the teenage girl zombie and the two pinners held her head up from the sides while the basher moved in from behind. Her moans were pitiful as she grabbed at the poles which held her head immobile. Her shirt was shredded, and her back was missing chunks of flesh where she had been attacked. Her neck was a raw open wound, and likely was how she died.
With the girl dead, we had two left to deal with, and they were coming at more leisurely pace. I directed the squad to the closest one, while I moved out to keep the other occupied. I thought I heard a scream from the other side of the building, but I was not about to go look just yet. Standing rule was you finish what was in front of you before you went looking for seconds.
As the zombie got closer, I was amazed once again at the virus that continued to animate these corpses. This guy must have been dead for a while, as he was shirtless and his mottled grey skin was torn and hanging off in various places. I didn’t see a wound which meant he likely caught the virus through secondary contact. His mouth was a bloody ruin, and one eye was missing, as if he had been in a nasty fight for his last meal. He lurched towards me on legs that had seen too many miles. His femur was showing through a hole in his pants leg, and he reached out with claw-like hands to grab hold as he moved slowly closer. I backed up a few steps, keeping an eye on him, but also stealing a glance around for any others.
My squad killed the other zombie, a small Hispanic female with only one arm, then moved over to mine. They dropped the man, pinned and bashed him in short order, then we all looked around for more targets. None in sight.
I breathed a sigh of relief when the screams started again, this time they were more like shrieks, and there were several gunshots coming from the side of the building.
I yelled at the squad as I ran to the side of the building “Weapons out, weapons out!” I didn’t know what I was going to find, but we were not going to be unprepared I stopped them about ten feet from the edge of the building and motioned them to stay behind me. I had the heavy firepower so I was going to go first. I angled away from the building and started forward, “cutting the pie” as the term was called from my old IDPA days. Never thought I would actually be using those skills, but I guess that was the point of the competition.
I rounded the corner and saw chaos. Two members of a squad were down, and each had four or five zombies on them, eating whatever they could tear off. The other members of the squad were in a small group, facing outward with their poles, pushing zombies away that got too close. They couldn’t take their eyes off the Z’s long enough to draw their weapons, which explained the standoff. I could see the poles of a pinner and a basher on the ground, which made sense as to why the remaining members could not deal with the zombies in front of them. I briefly wondered where their shooter was, but then I heard a shot coming from the field just west of the road that led to the parking lot in the back of the building. Time to work.
“Take out the feeders! Heads shots! Now!” I yelled, earning me grateful looks from my team. They spread out and four guns barked as one, dropping the zombies feeding on the basher from the besieged group. They ran to the next group and their guns barked again. I went to work on the standing zombies, and I shot like a metronome…aim, fire, aim, fire, aim, fire. I shot four zombies and the fifth turned his head to look to me. That was wrong. They don’t ever take their eyes off prey. What the hell was going on? First the ducker, now this. The zombie, a guy about thirty, turned from his attack on the small group and came at me, his legs moving quickly. I didn’t have time to line up a killing shot when he was on me, knocking me to the ground. My rifle was between us and that was likely the only thing that saved me. His head reared back for a bite, his mouth opening wide. I shifted the gun’s muzzle and jammed it into his mouth. His yellowed teeth clamped on the barrel, and two of them chipped to jagged points. His hands clawed at my back and arms, trying to get me in for a killing bite. I pushed at him, trying to get my hand on the trigger to blow his head off, but his clothing had gotten in the way. I rolled to the left, pinning the zombie beneath me, still keeping the rifle between us as a way to keep from being bit, my back was hurting like hell where the Z had been clawing at me. The good news was scratches didn’t turn you into a zombie. Bad news was you nearly died from infection from the rotting things.
“Fuck this.” I said, taking my hand off the rifle and shoving it into his throat. That was a risk. I had seen other guys do that only to shove their hands into waiting mouths. I got lucky. I pushed back and sat up as I straddled his struggling form, keeping my hand on his throat. A gargled moan came from his lips as he struggled and thrashed at my arms. I drew my sidearm and, shoving the barrel in between his eyebrows, fired once, ending the zombie once and for all.
I stood up and surveyed the damage. Two members were definitely down and finished. I walked over to where the bludgeon lay and picked up the heavy stick. I went back to the two still forms, and with two very swift swings, ensured that they would not be coming back for dinner. Sometimes the virus reanimated people killed by zombies, sometimes it didn’t. Better to be sure, I always say.
I went over to the survivors and spoke with the other pinner. “What happened?’ I asked.
The pinner, Bill Cross, shook as he looked over his dead squad members. “I’m not sure. One minute we were doing just fine, then all of a sudden this trio of fast moving zombies comes out over the hill and jumps our Shooter. He got one of them, but the other two split up and came at us while we were dealing with that fat one over there.” He indicated with a wave of his hand the large corpse laying a few feet away.
“Wait. You said they split up?” I asked, not sure I had heard correctly.
“Yeah. One of them went after the Shooter and the other came at us from behind. Christian never knew what hit him until the thing had dragged him down. That bought enough time for the rest of them to swarm and hit us as a mob.”
That made sense. Not a lot, but it did. “Where’s your shooter? Where’s Steve?”
Bill looked out over the hill. “He’s down that way. Looks like he’s coming back.”
I followed his gaze. Sure enough, I saw my other Shooter coming back. He walked a little stiff, like his leg was hurting him. I walked over to the top of the embankment and started towards him. He stopped me with a raised hand. “Sorry, John. That’s as close as you get.” He said, keeping me about twenty feet away. “What happened, Steve?” I asked, not wanting to hear the answer. “Fuckers came out of nowhere, moving faster than I ever saw these bastards move. Just wasn’t expecting it, you know?” I knew, having seen a couple of them myself. “Yeah, I dealt with one myself.” “Was it the guy in the red shirt?” Steve asked. “That’s the one.”
“Never saw nothing like it. Four of them came fast, only managed to get a lucky shot off that dropped one of them. The other three charged, but only one attacked me. The other two stopped for a second, looked at me, and then went off to the squad. It was like, like…” I finished his sentence. “Like they were thinking things through and made a choice.” “Exactly!” Steve thought for a second. “It was like he knew I would kill him, so he went after easier prey.” “Need to think about how this changes things, don’t we?” I said. “You will. Not me.” Steve showed me his hand. It was bloody at the wrist and a chunk was missing.
I didn’t know what to say. Steve was a great guy, not prone to panic, and hated zombies with a passion for killing his wife and children. He knew he wasn’t going to make it and didn’t want to risk anyone else. “I’m sorry, Steve.”
He waved me off. “Don’t worry about me. I’ve avenged my family a dozen times. At least now I can go be with them.” His voice trailed off as he looked around him. I knew what he was doing. He was taking a last look around and just appreciating all the good things he could see. I did that myself, once, when I thought all hope was lost and it would be better just to end it all for Jake and myself. It was different for Steve, though. His family was gone.
“Do me a favor?” Steve suddenly said.
“What’s that?” I asked, although I already knew the answer.
“I can’t kill myself. Thought I could but a while ago knew I couldn’t. Guess that’s what made me such a badass with the Z’s. I wasn’t fighting so hard to kill them, I was fighting so hard so I wouldn’t have to kill myself.”
I understood where he was coming from. Steve was my friend, and I had to kill him before he got sick and turned. My heart was heavy as I answered him. “I’d be honored.”
Steve locked eyes with me. “Thanks. I’m glad I found a friend like you in this mess.” He put his guns down and made a pile of the gear he took off. His guns would go to another shooter, his clothes would be burned, and his body would be buried on the hill overlooking the creek. He would join the 27 others up there, killed in a battle that some, even myself, were wondering why we bothered.
Steve walked away from his gear and stood facing the field. I could see the other corpse out there, the one that Steve killed; the one that killed him.
I walked a little to the right until I was about fifteen feet behind him. I had a hard time with my sights, because something got into my eyes. But I knew what he wanted and as a friend I could not do less. I would want someone to end me the same way should I get bitten. I said a quick prayer for Steve and quick request for forgiveness, and pulled the trigger.
The high powered round took Steve in the back of the head, killing him instantly. His body fell straight over, not bending or crumpling in any way. I smiled slightly to myself. That was just like Steve. No compromise. I looked skyward, raging inside at what I had become, what I was forced to do. But nothing was going to change what had happened that day. I lowered my rifle and walked back to the groups waiting for me. I picked up Steve’s weapons and slung them over my shoulder. My mind went back to the days when I had to kill another person, when the all the killing began.