Sign in or 
Share this
Dr. Zed's Love Chapter 3
Here's Chapter 3. Be excellent to each other, and party on dudes!
The zombies were everywhere. They clawed at all the windows, tearing away our barricades. Sprinting furiously to the nearest one, I emptied my 1911 out the window. The zombies fell. Quickly, I looked around. Will was on the other side of the room from me, trying to hold off 3 groups of zombies with his shotgun. Sarah was in the other room, frantically repairing barricades and using her revolver as best she could.
"I'm out!" Will screamed as his shotgun clicked empty. He ran from the groups of zombies approaching him, scrambling to reload.
"I've got you!" I said back, pulling out my rifle. It fired with a clanking sounds, the heavy rounds blowing the zombies to pieces.
"Guys, help!" Sarah shouted. "I'm down!" I looked to see her on the ground, with the zombies circling around her.
"****!" I muttered. I swung, and tried to take them down.
"Matt, help!" Will said. He was down too.
"Dammit!" I said. I didn't know what to do. Then, out of nowhere, my gun stopped firing. As a last ditch, I pulled out my knife, and slashed frantically. But it wasn't enough. The zombies crowded around me, and knocked me down. Darkness followed.
"Crap!" I said, setting the controller down next to me and taking a drink.
"We didn't do too bad, Matt." Sarah said brightly, laughing. "Level 15 at least."
"Yeah, we're gettin' better." Will said.
The three of us were sitting in my room; Sarah and I on the bed, and Will in a chair we'd dragged in. The TV was on, showing a screen from Nazi Zombies. It was a mode on a popular videogame, where people could band together and fight zombies in a house. Will and I had played it a lot before, but Sarah never really had. Now, for some reason, it seemed even more fun than it had before.
It was Monday, two days after our first raiding trip. We'd mainly been laying low; the solar panels were installed, and we had plenty of power. Our food and water supplies were good; put simply, we were set. Aside from the zombies that occasionally showed up, nothing bothered us too much.
Also, we had been surprised on Sunday; there had been no indication that the bombs had gone off. A few people on the Internet reported that many major cities had been incinerated (don't ask me how they knew without being blown up themselves.) Still, like I'd suspected, the effect on the zombies had been less than stellar. If anything, all it did was scatter them, sending them out away from the cities to the surrounding area.
That was another thing that still surprised me; the amount of people still using the Internet after the outbreak. I'd found a forum devoted to zombie survival, and four or five people were still active. I'd swapped stories with them, and learned a few things. Apparently, the outbreak was affecting certain people differently; two people had spotted running zombies. (Well, not running. Just moving faster than normal.) Nobody was sure why. It was just something we'd have to watch out for.
"You guys wanna play again?" Will asked, snapping me out of my thoughts.
"Nah, I'm good." Sarah said, getting up off the bed. "I'm kinda tired."
"Oh, you are, huh?" Will asked, smirking. "Matt been keeping you up at night? Hmmmm?"
"Shaddup, Will." I said, kicking at him.
That was another thing; Will had made it sure that everyone knew that Sarah and I were together now. Nobody objected or minded (Gramps had even said "About damn time"), and Will had moved into a separate room, but his constant jokes and comments were annoying.
In all honesty, Sarah and I actually hadn't done anything yet; there were no condoms anywhere in the house. Still, though, we were happy just to be together. Sarah had apparently known that I'd liked her for a while now; she just didn't feel the same until after the outbreak. Now, it wasn't like I had been stalking her or anything. I'd had several girlfriends, and I didn't follow her around. She was just the girl I always wished I could have.
Anyway, it didn't really change how anyone acted; we still laughed and joked around, and there were nonsense romantic acts by me; it was just a fact that we were together.
I shut off the game, and the three of us walked downstairs. John was on watch, but everyone else was just sort of hanging around. Mom, Grandma, and Mrs. Campbell were, to my surprise, watching Black Hawk Down. As I walked into the room, I caught a piece of dialogue I recognized.
"Othic, get in that truck and drive!" Colonel Danny McKnight was shouting on TV.
"But I'm shot, colonel!" Another character yelled back.
"EVERYBODY'S SHOT!" I yelled, in exact time with the movie. I laughed.
"How're you guys doing?" Grandma asked.
"Good, thanks." Sarah said.
"Hey, where are Dad and Gramps?" I asked.
"Reloading bullets in the garage." Mom said.
"Oh, cool." I said. I'd always enjoyed reloading." I might go out and give them a hand. Anyone else want to?"
"No thanks." Will said, flopping down on the couch.
"Sure, I'll come." Sarah said. "I don't know anything about reloading, though."
"That's alright; I'll show you how to do it." We turned and went toward the garage.
"Aww...ain't that cute?" Will sneered. "Romance blooms over bullets and gunpowder."
"Be quiet, Will." I said, chuckling. I knew his jokes were all in good fun. "Remember: Sarah and I could both kill you five times before you hit the ground."
"Hi, Matt. Hi, Sarah." Gramps said as we walked into the garage. It was a small, cluttered place, filled with tools and equipment. The stench of gas was hanging heavily in the air. M dad and grandfather were seated at a bench in the corner, with two RCBS bullet-reloading tools in front of them. There was gunpowder and a measurer, and a large box of empty casings we'd been saving. From the looks of it, my Dad was working on shotgun shells, and my grandfather was working on .223. My dad, who was carefully measuring out powder, looked up and waved, then went back to work.
"Hey." I said. "How's it coming?"
"Good." Gramps said, crimping the plastic of a shell. "We've gotten 20 12 gauges and 25 .223's done. Damn, they're so much faster to shoot then they are to load."
"Agreed." I said. "Sarah wants to learn a little bit about reloading; after y'all are done, mind if I show her?"
"Sure." Dad said, seating a bullet into a case.
"Wait a second." I said, turning to my grandfather. " What are you loading those shells with? I didn't think we had many buckshot pellets."
"We've got three boxes of double-ought. That's over 200 pellets." Gramps explained. "But, I haven't dipped into those yet. I've been using these." He opened his hand, to reveal small, black screws. "As long as they can fit in the shell, why not? Also, fishing weights and metal washers work." He chuckled, then carefully placed a few of the screws in the shell.
"Is that safe?" Sarah asked. I can see why she'd be concerned. I quickly explained that as long as they were a certain size, it didn't really matter what we put in the shell. Sure, accuracy wouldn't be as good from shell-to-shell, but it was good enough.
We spent the next half-hour reloading. Well, to be more precise, Dad and Gramps did most of the reloading; I was explaining to Sarah how reloading worked. After a little while, Dad relinquished his chair, letting me show Sarah how to do it. By the time we finished, a grand total of 37 12 gauges had been reloaded, and 41 .223s had been done.
"Well, I think we're about done." Dad had said, standing up.
Suddenly, we heard some fast footsteps inside the house. John burst through the door, and looked around frantically for us.
"Hey! Guys, I need your help."
"What's wrong?" I asked, picking up my rifle.
"There's a large group of zombies outside!" John said as we all gathered our weapons. Looks to be around forty."
"That doesn't sound too bad." Dad said. "We can just shoot from the windows."
"You don't understand!" John yelled. "They're following somebody!"
Sure enough, when we looked out in the window, a large group of zombies was coming down the road. Yet, running in front of them with all their might were a camouflage-clad man and woman. They looked (obviously) very haggard and tired. AI could see a handgun clenched in the man's hand, but he wasn't using it.
"****!" Will said. "Should we go out there and help them?!"
"Of course we should!" I yelled.
"I don't know, Matt." John said. "This could be a trap. We shouldn't just trust them."
"C'mon!" I said. "They looks like they're about to die. He's probably out of ammo. There isn't anything they could do to us! Who thinks we should help them?" I looked around. Mom, Mrs. Campbell, my grandmother, Sarah, Dad, Will, and Gramps all agreed with me. John was the only one opposed. He shook his head and sighed.
"Fine." He checked the load on his carbine. By this time, the couple was getting close to the house, though the zombies weren't far behind.
"Okay, guys!" I said. "Take up positions on the windows. Take down as many as you can. Someone has to go out and get him. I'll do it."
"Matt, no!" Mom said. "At least wait until we shoot some of them."
"There's no time!" I said. "We have to go out and get him now!"
"Paul, please help me here!" Mom said.
"She's right, Matt." Dad said. "It's too dangerous."
"I agree." Sarah said. "Someone else should do it." I could see the concern in her eyes.
"Well, I'd rather it be me than someone else. Look, I know y'all might not want me to, but I'm probably the one who's best-equipped to do it. I can run faster than you guys. Plus, y'all will have me covered from the windows. I'll be careful, but someone has to help him!" Everyone seemed to get that I wouldn't be swayed, so they relented.
"Fine!" Mom said, throwing her hands up.
"If you're gonna go, Matt." Dad said. "Take this." He picked up the Remington 11-87 autoloader from where it was sitting in the corner, and gave me all the shells in his pocket. "It'll be better for close range. I'll use your rifle." I handed him my rifle and bullets.
"Good luck, Matt." My grandmother said, patting me on the shoulder. I'd noticed she was speaking less and less lately.
"Dammit, Matt. Why do you have to be so freakin' stubborn?" She smirked, then handed me all of her shells as well
"Dunno." I smirked; despite the seriousness of the situation, this felt like the time for a movie quote. "Gimme some sugar, baby." I kissed her.
One by one, everyone wished me luck. Sighing, with my heart pounding in my chest, I approached the door. As I reached to open the door, I noticed Will standing beside me.
"What're you doing, Will?" I asked.
"I can't let you have all the fun." He said, loading his shotgun. "I'm coming with you."
"Oh no you're not!" Mrs. Campbell said, approaching. "You're staying here."
"C'mon, Mom." Will said. "I can't let Matt go by himself."
"Will, I said not to go out there!" His mother insisted.
"I'll be fine, mom!" Will said.
"THIS ISN'T A GAME!" Mrs. Campbell exploded. "Matt's a better shot than you! I'm not letting you go out and get yourself killed!"
"I agree with her, Will." I said. "Stay here, man. You won't miss much."
"Hey!" Will yelled. He was starting to get angry. "Don't talk down to me! I'm just as good as you are!"
"Will!" John yelled, coming downstairs. "Listen to your mother! Stay in the house!" I was surprised by all this; Will and his family had always seemed to have a good rapport.
"NO!" Will screamed. "I'm tired of always being the backup guy. I'm tired of being last in line. **** both of you! I'm going!" With that, he flung open the door and charged out.
"****!" I shouted. I saw John and Mrs. Campbell start out the door. "NO! Don't go out there! I'll get him! Guard the door so we can get back in!"
"But Matt-" Mrs. Campbell began.
"LISTEN TO ME! I'll get Will. Just make sure we can get back in." I turned, and sprinted out the door.
As I emerged on the lawn, gunshots began to ring out from above me. The group of zombies was still around 200 yards away, so aiming effectively was difficult. In no time, I'd caught up to Will and forced him to stop.
"What the hell are you doing?!" I asked angrily.
"Not now!" He said. "Let's get to them first!" We took off, sprinting towards the man and woman. They were only about 100 yards away. As we got closer, I realized that they were both very young; only a few years older than me. Their clothing was military-style digital camo. I could see that they were about at their limit of endurance. It looked as if they had been running for miles. Finally, we reached them.
“Guys, please help us!” The woman said. She had short, dark hair, and would have been pretty if she wasn’t so disheveled.
“Get to the house!” I shouted, raising my shotgun to face the approaching mob. “We’ll cover you!”
“Thanks man!” The man said. He was tall, with a blonde crew-cut.
“Thank me later!” I said impatiently. I looked down at his handgun, and realized it was a Taurus Judge .410 revolver. “Got any shells for that thing?!”
“No, I’m out.” He said between gasps of breath. I drew my 1911 and handed it to him.
“Take this then! Mag’s full. Now get to the house!” He nodded, and the both ran off shakily towards the house. Unbeknownst to me, the volume of fire from the house had been increasing as the zombie group got close to us. I wasn’t sure how many there were, but it was definitely a lot. They were around 50 yards from us now (i.e. around 150 from the house,) so the shooting still wasn't too accurate, but it helped. To my left, Will raised his shotgun and fired. A few zombies showed signs of being hit, but none went down.
“Don’t be an idiot!” I shouted at him. “They’re too far away. We gotta fall back and get to the house.”
"MATT!" I heard John shout from the door. "They're circling around!" I turned, and sure enough, a group of zombies was coming around my right side. They were less than 20 yards away.
"****!" I screamed, moving away. Frantically, I fired, the shotgun bucking against my shoulder. Geez, I wished I had my rifle. Either way, some zombies fell. Near me, I heard shotgun blasts from Will's Ithaca. I dug into my pocket for more shells. Feeding them into the gun, I began backing up towards the house. Then, I heard a terrible sound.
Will was screaming.
It wasn't a scream of anger or rage; just an unending yowl of pain and fear.
"WILL!" I heard John and Mrs. Campbell scream. By the time I turned around, they were right near me. They'd covered the entire distance in just a few seconds. I'd never seen human beings move that fast.
Mrs. Campbell swooped in, placing herself next to Will. Will was hollering, and holding his arm. He didn't look to be bitten, but had fallen and messed up his ankle. Many of the zombies were within biting distance, but John shoved him backwards, out of harm's way.
"GET HIM INSIDE NOW!" John said with such force that I leapt to it. I didn't want to leave him with the mob, but I had no choice. Walking backwards, I lead Will away. As I did so, I looked back.
And I saw a pair of demons.
The look in their eyes was nothing short of superhuman. It was so purely enraged, so purely focused, that it couldn't be real.
"Come on, you ************* sons of *******!" Mrs. Campbell screamed, spinning around. "You wanna mess with our son? Well, why not ******* mess with us?!" This personality was so at odds with her normal one. Either way, they both began firing. They were so fast that their rifles sounded like full-auto, but each and every shot was well-aimed. Zombies all around them fell like cordwood.
It was like something out of an action movie; the two of them stood back-to-back, establishing a full circle of death.
"I'm out!" John shouted. He ducked, and let Mrs. Campbell fire over him. He executed a perfect reload, then stood back up. In less than four seconds, a dozen more zombies were dead around them.
"Matt, come on!" Will said, trying to hobble forward.
Still, I couldn't help but look back. At this point, Mrs. Campbell's gun clicked empty.
Then she screamed. A zombie had latched onto her arm, and had bitten down.
"************!" John shouted, turning and putting at least five rounds into the zombie's face. "You okay?!"
"I'm fine!" Mrs. Campbell shouted back, finishing her reload and resuming firing, as if nothing had happened.
We continued running towards the house, and the Campbells continued their massacre. In fact, by the time we reached the door, they had taken down every last one of the zombies. Slowly, the demonic faces left them, and they looked around. They both shook their heads.
"...******* scum." John muttered after a minute. Mrs. Campbell nodded, paying no attention to her bite. Then, he charged with all his might to join us.
We raced inside, and set Will down in the living room. Everyone was there, including the man and woman we'd just rescued. They looked to be on the edge of keeling over.
"Owww, ****!" Will said. "Damn, that hurts." After a minute, we figured that he’d twisted his ankle. Painful, but he’d be fine.
"Mrs. Campbell, did one of them bite you?” I asked. No answer, so I tried again. “Mrs. Campbell, it looked like-”
"Yes, dammit. One of them got me." Involuntarily, I gasped. So did everyone else; we'd all seen zombie movies; we knew what this meant. Even though a few of us sort’ve disliked Mrs. Campbell, this was terrible.
"Oh God..." Will murmured. All of the unpleasantness and arguments of a ten minutes ago seemed to be forgotten. "Please...no." He looked like he was about to cry.
"It's okay, Will." Mrs. Campbell said somberly. "There's nothing we can do about it. It has to be done."
"How did you accept it so fast?" I asked, incredulous. She turned and looked me right in the eye.
"I'm not an idiot, Matt. I'm going to become a zombie if I don't kill myself. That's all there is to it."
"Carrie, no." John said. His shirt and pants were covered in blood. "There might be a cure-"
"There isn't, John." She cut in. "And even if there was, we don't have any. Personally, I'd rather die than become a zombie." She winced and clenched her arm. "That's weird. I can almost feel it spreading."
"Please, Mom, don't." Will said, tears beginning to roll down his face. I didn’t blame him.
"I have to, Will."
"...She's right, Will." John said. A stony look had come across his face.
"Well...how would you like to do it?" I asked, not believing what I was saying. Like I said, I didn’t care for Mrs. Campbell, but I just couldn’t accept the fact that she was dying.
"Hmmm..." Mrs. Campbell said. "Well, I want to be sure I don‘t come back." She thought for a minute. "Matt, we still have that elephant gun, right?"
"The .458? Yes, we do.” I knew where this was going.
"Well, get me that and a bullet. If I'm going to die, that seems to be the most surefire way."
"Sure thing, ma’am." I said, getting up and rubbing my eyes. I couldn't believe I was helping my friend’s mom kill herself; but, I agreed with her. It was better to be dead than a zombie. I went and got the gun, along with a box of bullets, and came back. As I walked into the room, I noted the blond man eyeing the gun carefully.
"Thanks." Mrs. Campbell said, then began saying her goodbyes to everyone. She didn't seem sad, really; just disappointed. Everyone else was upset, obviously. However, her voice broke when she got to Will.
“Will...” She sniffed. “Be careful out there. Don’t let what happened to me happen to you.
"Mom...I'm sorry for all the stuff I said earlier."
"It's okay, Will." She said
"I love you, mom. You and Dad have given me everything."
"I love you too, Will. With all my heart.” She hugged him, then slowly let him go. Then, Will turned to the man and woman.
"Listen, ma’am.” The man said. “What you did for your son was very brave. You should be proud. What‘s your name?”
“Carrie Campbell.” She said, reaching out and shaking their hands.
"I'm Miranda Stuart." The woman said. "Used to be a corporal in the Marines. You would've made a great Marine, ma‘am."
"Thanks." She said, smiling. She turned to the man. "And you are...?" The man smirked.
"Former Sergeant Pete Whitford." This caught all of us off guard. I should’ve seen it sooner; only he would have a Taurus Judge; only someone who owned the .458 would stare at it so intensely. Will, however, recovered quickly.
“Well, nice to meet you, even if it won‘t be for too long. Oh, we kind of...borrowed some stuff from your house.”
“I noticed.” He smiled wearily, and gestured to Will. “That Ithaca.” He then gestured to me. “His Remington, and that Winchester .458. Don‘t worry about it, though. You were just doing what you have to.”
“Will, give him his shotgun back.“ Mrs. Campbell instructed. Without any argument, he started to hand him the gun.
“No, it’s fine dude.” Pete said. “I wouldn’t use it. You keep it.”
“Thanks.” Will said. He obviously wasn’t focusing on that.
“Oh, here, you can have this back. “ I said, handing him the Remington. “I normally use a Marlin 336.” Pete nodded, and took the gun.
"Well, I guess that's everything." Mrs. Campbell said, standing up. "It's been nice knowing y'all. Stay safe." She smiled, and headed towards the door. John followed her; I assumed they wanted to say their goodbyes in private.
Five minutes later, I was in my bedroom with Will. He was smoking a cigarette. He had asked me to sit and talk with him for a little while.
"It's my fault." He muttered. "If I hadn't gone out there, Mom wouldn't have died."
"There was no way you could've known, Will. Don't blame yourself." He seemed to consider this for a moment, debating whether or not to blame himself further. Apparently, he decided against it.
"Thanks, Matt. Y'know, you're a good friend, man."
"You are too, buddy." He sighed.
"I just can't believe it. I'm never-" His voice broke. "I'm never gonna see my mom again."
"I know, pal. I know. I'm sorry" After a moment, Will seemed to calm down again.
"Actually..." He said. "This may be for the best. She's going to a better place, right?"
"Yeah..." I said, trying to mask my growing doubt of religion. "Where she's going, she doesn't have to deal with zombies, disease, or anything else anymore." At this, Will actually smiled.
"I'd kinda been fooling myself all this time, Matt." Will said, continuing. "I treated this whole thing like a damn zombie movie. Like none of us were gonna die or anything. I was such an idiot."
"No, you weren't." I replied. "I pretty much thought the same thing." It was true; I'd been holding on to the false belief we'd all make it through this. Now I knew it was wrong.
Neither of us spoke for a minute. Will took a long drag on the cigarette.
"Heh," He muttered. "My parents sure kicked a lot of ass earlier." Amazingly, he chuckled; it seemed like he was going to recover okay. I guess the idea of his mother going to Heaven was enough for him.
"Yeah." I said after a moment. "They were like Terminators."
Around twenty seconds later, the thunderous roar of the .458 echoed through the house.
John nearly died that night.
We knew that his wife's death had hit him hard; of course it would. After he came inside, he barely said a word all night. He just sat there, not looking at anything in particular.
I remember it clearly. We had all been sitting in the living room before it happened. The silence following Mrs. Campbell's death hung in the air like a toxin, so I tried to think of something to say.
"So..." I said. "What's your story, Sarge?" Sure, I could have called him Pete, but he didn't mind "Sarge" and it sounded cooler.
"Not much to say really." He grunted, cleaning his gun. He had retrieved his Benelli Vinci, and was stripping it. With each movement, I could see how in-tune he was with the gun. Also, the Colt 1911 from his house was next to him. “After the Pentagon got hit, our CO just kinda gave up. He said we could either stay with him or leave; he didn’t care. So, I got Miranda, and we just left. We had to give up our issued guns, but I got to keep my Judge. We were makin’ our way to my house when we got attacked. Damn things came out of nowhere. I must have shot a dozen of them, but there were just too many. They bogged down the truck, so we had to get out and run. We happened upon you guys.”
“And we rescued you. And my wife got killed.” John finished bluntly. It was the first time he'd spoken in a while. I could sense that he was more than a little hostile towards Sarge, since he had indirectly caused Mrs. Campbell’s death. I couldn’t blame him for being mad, but it wouldn’t help.
“Yeah...” Sarge trailed off. “I didn't mean for that to happen man, really."
“He means it. We're really sorry about Mrs. Campbell.” Miranda added. She was inspecting the Savage 110 that we’d taken from Sarge’s house. At her hip was the Glock 17 we’d taken off the man I’d bashed. I couldn’t remember his name. Whatever. “We’ll do whatever we can to repay you.”
“It was no...” I trailed off. I couldn’t say that it was no problem. I looked to Sarah for something to say, but she drew a blank as well.
“You’re welcome.” I muttered finally. Then, we all just sat there, listening to the faint clicks as Sarge and Miranda inspected their guns.
“Hey, Matt.” Will said. “Why not find a movie or something? A comedy, maybe.”
“That’s a good idea.” Mom said. “Something to take our minds off...well, you know.”
"Well, you guys can watch it." John muttered, standing up. "I'm going to bed." He trundled off towards the stairs.
"Well, any ideas on what we want to watch?" I asked.
"Anything, Matt." Gramps said.
"How about Ferris Bueller's Day Off?" Sarah suggested.
"Sounds good to me." I said, standing up.
I went up the stairs, and began walking down the hallway to my room. The door to the guestroom was slightly open; John must have left it like that. I walked up, and began to close it, but through the door I saw something that made my blood freeze.
John had his gun in his mouth.
I didn't think; I just reacted on instinct.
"JOHN, NO!" I shouted, trying to grab the gun. He looked up at me in surprise, the gun moving. I got ahold of the gun, and wrenched it to the side. John's finger curled, and his Glock went off, the report deafening in the small room.
"MATT!" I heard my mother scream. "What's going on?!" There was a mad rush up the stairs, and soon everybody was in the room. I'd managed to get the gun away from John, so I handed it to Sarah for now.
"John, what are you doing?!" Dad asked.
"I don't want to go on anymore." He said. He began to cry. "Without Carrie, I...I just don't know.
"John...you have to know." Dad said. "None of us could have predicted this. Killing yourself won't bring her back."
"I know that." John muttered, not looking at anyone. "But, then I'll be with her."
"No, you won't." My grandmother said. "She's in Heaven. If you kill yourself, you won't be."
"C'mon, John." Gramps said. "You can't blame yourself. When I was in the war, my spotter was killed."
"You were a sniper?!" I asked.
"Yes Matt. I'll tell you later. Anyway, he got killed in an ambush. For weeks, I blamed myself. I always thought of it like 'If.' 'If I'd seen the other guy first' 'If I'd gotten my gun up.' Things like that. But there was nothing I could've done." John looked at him, then sighed.
"I guess you're right. It's not my fault that my wife is gone." He turned and cast a burning glare at Sarge. "It's yours." He stood up, and approached Sarge, his fists balled.
"Hey, man." Sarge said, backing up and raising his hands defensively. "I had nothing to do with it. I just happened to come by here. I know you're angry, but there's nothing I could've done." Unfortunately, John wasn't listening.
"Because of you..." John continued. "My wife is dead. If you hadn't come here, I'd still have her."
"Listen, John, I'm sorry, but..."
John exploded.
"SHUT THE **** UP!" He shouted. "Because of you, Carrie is dead! I'm never gonna see her again, you son of a *****!" With the ferocity that he'd used to slaughter the zombie horde earlier, he swung at Sarge, catching him right in the nose. I heard it crack.
"OW! ****!" Sarge coughed, holding his nose. He started to advance on John, but then stopped, since John's mood had changed again. He was now sobbing.
"She's gone." He wheezed. "I can't believe she's gone." He sank to the ground. We all crowded around him, trying to comfort him. Miranda checked out charge; his nose was broken, but he'd be fine.
"I know it hurts, pal." Dad said. "But, this isn't how she'd want you to remember her."
"Yeah," I said, taking charge once again. "Do you think she'd want us all to shut down if she died? No. She'd want us to keep fighting; keep surviving; keep her memory alive. "For all we know, we're one of the last groups of people on Earth. We need to stay alive as long as we can. And we need you in order do that, John. We're all counting on you. We can't let anything get us down; we need to keep our spirits up, and keep going. Otherwise, we're no better than these goddamn zombies. Wherever Mrs. Campbell is, that's what she'd want." I looked around, to see everybody watching me. I hadn't meant to be dramatic or anything; I was just saying what was on my mind. But, apparently, they all agreed.
"You see what I mean, John?" He nodded, his crying subsiding. That looked to be a good sign; he would probably be okay.
After a minute, he stood up, and turned to Sarge.
"I'm sorry I hit you, man. It was out of line." He extended his hand.
"It's okay, I understand." Sarge replied, shaking John's hand. "Don't worry about it." I had to admit I was impressed; he didn't seem angry or anything.
"Is your nose gonna be okay?" Will asked.
"Hmm?" Sarge replied. "Oh, yeah. I'll be fine." He smirked. "I gotta admit; you punch pretty hard, John." He reached up, and cupped his hands around his nose. "Damn, this is gonna hurt." Then, with a gut-wrenching crack, he snapped his nose back in place.
"Owwww..." He moaned.
"Holy hell." I said involuntarily.
"I'm not gonna lie." Will added. Again, I was impressed at how well he was doing. "That was pretty freakin' awesome.
Three days later, a group of us were sitting on the roof, holding various rifles. There was an unusually high number of zombies that day. I figured it was the best time for some target practice. I watched as Miranda pulled off a perfect headshot on a zombie around 250 yards away.
"Nice job!" I said.
"Thanks," She replied, chambering another round. "In the Corps, I was SDM."
"What's that?" Will asked, confused.
"Squad Designated Marksman." Sarge, Miranda, and I all said at the time. We looked at each other, and laughed.
"Y'all doing okay?" I shouted down towards the other end of the roof, where my grandparents were sitting.
"We're good." Gramps replied, as my grandmother sent a round downrange. Her shot connected with the zombie, but didn't hit the head. Since her normal weapon was a shotgun, we'd thought she should to get used to a rifle, just in case the zombies were a little too far away.
"Y'know, Matt." Sarah said. "I've been wondering something. Why do we need to snipe them like this? They're so slow; if they're 200 yards away, we've got a good five minutes before they get to us."
"Actually...I don't know." I replied. "I never thought about it. Good point." I sat there for a minute, perplexed. "It just...seemed like something we should be doing."
"Well, it's fun as hell." Will said. He had been shooting slugs out of his shotgun, and been scoring hits out to 75 yards.
"Agreed." John muttered, sighting down his carbine. He let loose a round, striking a zombie a hundred yards away. He seemed to be doing okay after Mrs. Campbell's death; he was a little quieter than usual, but well enough. We'd basically agreed to forget about his attempted suicide.
"Hey, that one was mine!" Mom said jokingly. She pivoted, and shot a zombie coming out of the woods.
We were all in pretty good spirits; the day before, we'd raided a few more houses nearby, making sure we had enough food and water to get by. From the looks of it, we had easily a few month's worth. Luckily, we hadn't run into any raiders or freaks like at Sarge's place ("*******. Nice job, Matt." Sarge had said when we told him about the guy I bashed). With the addition of Sarge and Miranda, it was easier to send out scavenging groups while keeping people at the house. For example, John, Gramps, Dad, and Will had stayed out the house, with myself, Sarah, Sarge, Mom, and Miranda going out. We'd found some gas, and a few more guns and some ammunition, so we thought we were set. For now anyway.
We sat up on the roof like that for around a half hour, cleaning out the area. Soon, there were no zombies around.
"Well, that's about it for today, guys. Let's pack up and go in. Actually, I'll keep watch for a while. Sarah, you mind taking over after me?"
"Sure thing." She said, smiling as she gathered up our gear. Everyone started packing up, getting ready to take most of the rifles and ammunition down; we left the Vanguard up there, but I didn't really need it.
Everyone was just getting ready to go in when Mom had stopped and looked around.
"Matt, you hear that?" She asked.
"What?" I couldn't hear anything.
"Listen. It sounds like a car." She paused for a second. "No...two." As she said that, I began to hear it; far off, it sounded like an engine. And it was coming closer.
"Yeah, I hear it." I said. "Whaddya know; we ain't the only survivors around here."
"What if it's more of those guys like at Sarge's house?" Sarah said, tension in her voice. She still sometimes dwelled upon that guy.
"Well, then we'll shoot 'em to pieces." Gramps said cheerfully. I chuckled, but thought about it; I didn't want to risk a full-on shootout if that's who it was.
"Guys...maybe we should get inside. No sense in letting them know we're here."
"Too late." John said, peering sharply at the end of the road.
Two trucks had appeared around the corner. I could see two people in the front truck; no way of telling how many were in the rear one. I could see, however, that the back of each truck was loaded down with supplies.
"Crap." I murmured. "Okay, I need most of y'all to get inside. Dad, Sarge, stay out here, please. We don't have time to get everyone inside; if push comes to shove, I'll need you guys' help. Everyone else; set up positions at the windows, just in case."
"Hey, Matt." Sarah said. "Can I stay out here, too? I feel like I'll do more good." I thought about protesting, but by now the trucks had gotten close enough to see all of us.
"Uh, yeah, I guess." Everyone else scrambled to get inside, and I watched as the trucks pulled into our driveway.
"You think they're friendly?" Sarge asked. "I'm not sure about this, Matt."
"I'm with ya, Sarge." I replied. "But we really can't do much now. Let's just go down and see what they want. We've got the numbers advantage here. I don't think they're looking for a fight; but if they decide to, we can take 'em."
By the time the trucks had pulled to a stop, all four of us were standing to meet them. Our weapons were at low-ready; not pointed at them, but ready to bring into action in an instant. Also, I'd checked; everyone inside the house had us covered.
The doors of the front truck opened, and two men got out. I felt a slight adrenaline rush as I tried to read their intentions, but then I relaxed slightly; they didn't seem like they were looking for a fight.
The driver had been a shorter black man, with glasses and a trucker's hat. He looked to be in his late 20s. I quickly looked about for a weapon; there was a hammer in his belt, but no gun. Interesting.
The other guy was quite a bit taller; almost my height. He was good-looking, with a tan and short dark hair. There was a small scar on his cheek. He looked familiar, but I didn't know where I knew him from.
Honestly, I wasn't focused too hard on that at the moment. I was more focusing on the shotgun in his hand. It looked to be some Mossberg variant. However, he wasn't pointing it at us, and the safety looked to be on. I relaxed slightly.
"Afternoon." I said. "How're y'all doin'?"
"Not too bad." The black man said. "Well, as good as we can be. How 'bout yourself."
"We're doing good." I said, still trying to read them.
"That's a lot of stuff y'all have in there." Dad said. I don't think he meant to, but he sounded apprehensive.
"Yeah, it is." The taller man replied. I was surprised to hear a bit of a Boston accent in his voice. But, damn, it sounded familiar. "Look guys, we aren't looking for a fight or anything. Here, I'll prove it." He slung his shotgun over his shoulder. "I'm trusting you guys here not to shoot me, okay?" From the looks of it, he knew we wouldn't.
"As long as you don't shoot at us first, you've got nothing to worry about." They seemed to be okay, so we shouldered our weapons as well. Besides, everyone in the house was covering us, so I figured we'd be okay.
"We were actually looking for a group of people to trade with." The shorter man said. "Do you guys have any extra supplies you don't want. We'd be happy to swap."
"Uh..." I considered for a minute. "What are you guys looking for?"
"Guns and food, mainly." He replied. "We're pretty low on both. About a week's worth of food, and only two guns. We've got plenty of ammo; just nothing to shoot them out of. You have any extra guns you would be willing to trade?"
"Yeah, we've got quite a few. Hey, do you have any .410 shells?" I gestured to Sarge. "This guy needs some."
"Honestly, I know next to nothing 'bout guns." He replied. "You'll have to talk to Jeff here. He'll know." He jerked his thumb at the taller guy.
Jeff. ****, who was that guy?
Jeff considered for a minute.
"Um...yeah, I think we picked up a box a while ago. It's that Winchester Defense stuff. Lemme guess: you have a Judge?"
"Uh, yeah." Sarge said, taken aback. "Nice guess." Jeff chuckled.
"I know my guns."
"Oh, I think we're gonna be good friends." I replied. We all laughed.
"I just had an idea." Dad said. "You said you didn't have much food, right? You want to stay for dinner? We've still got power, so the 'fridge is full of stuff. We'll grill something up. Oh, and I don't think I caught your name." Jeff and the man looked at each, and nodded.
"That sounds great. Thanks." He laughed. "And my name's Marty. Sorry, I should've said that earlier. Nice to meet y'all." We shook hands, and we all introduced ourselves. But, for the life of me, I couldn't figure out where I knew Jeff from.
After talking for a few minutes, we went inside to let everyone know that it was safe. Everyone came outside, and introduced themselves. Afterward, John and Gramps began fiddling with the grill while we all talked.
Also, we got to meet the people in the second car. There was Annie, a black girl in her early twenties whom Marty introduced as his sister. She was in charge of the other gun the group had, a Bersa Thunder .380 pistol. Also, there was Bryan, a red-haired kid about three years younger than me. According to Marty, they'd found him sprinting past their house, and had offered to help him out. He was happy to see new people, and eager to talk to us. Honestly, I was happy to see them too; I was worried it would be like it was in the movies, where the only other people around would be raiders and psychos. It was good to know there were still nice people in the world.
It basically became a party after a while. We brought out the stereo, and hook up my Ipod to it. All of were talking animatedly to each other, swapping stories and experiences. Sarah and I talked a lot in particular with Marty, Jeff, and Annie.
"...so anyway," Marty said, finishing a story. "It turns out we weren't alone in that store. We were loading the clothes onto the truck when about ten zombies came up behind us. I just about pissed myself."
"No." Annie said. "You DID piss yourself." We all laughed.
"Either way, Jeff and Annie managed to put 'em all down."
"Heh, that's not too hard with a Mossberg at 10 feet." Jeff murmured, grinning. I chuckled, looking around. Something caught my eye. A little ways away, Will was talking with Bryan. But Bryan was paying him no attention; he was spending all his time staring at Sarah. I felt a little twinge of anger, then I thought about it; there were very few teenage girls left. When he found one, of course he was going to look. Either way, I nudged Sarah, who glanced over to where I was looking. She flashed a dazzling smile, and waved. Bryan looked away, embarrassed. We all laughed again.
"Poor kid." Marty said. "First pretty girl he's seen in a month, and he embarrasses himself."
"Oh, sorry." Sarah said. "I didn't mean anything by it. I was just kidding."
"Aw, he'll be fine." Annie said. "Give him two minutes and a secluded spot." She raised her eyebrows. "Y'know."
"Oh god..." Sarah replied, shaking her head. She couldn't help but smile, though.
"Yeah, puberty's a *****, Sarah." Jeff said. "Or, at least it was when I was a kid."
"If you mind my asking..." I said. "How old are you, Jeff? I could kinda guess on everyone else, but not you."
"Let me guess..." Sarah said. "Late 20s? Early 30s?" Jeff gave a winning smile, and laughed.
"Not even close." He said. "I'm 42."
"Really?" Sarah said. She apparently hadn't been expecting that.
"Now, c'mon. Would I lie about that?"
Hmm, he was 42. More info. Still, who the hell was this guy?
Suddenly, Jeff's expression darkened.
"Heads up, guys." He said, pointing. Two zombies were coming down the road. I shrugged.
"Meh, not too big of a problem." I whistled to get everyone's attention, then pointed. I put down one zombie, and Mom shot the other one.
"Where were we?" Marty said, as if nothing had happened.
"Well, I just said how old I was. I think that was it." He looked over towards the grill. "Your Dad and Gramps are making burgers, right Matt? I hope they don't burn 'em."
Burn.
That was it.
"YOU'RE JEFFREY DONOVAN!" I blurted. "Holy ****, that's where I know you from!"
"Guilty as charged." He smiled, shrugging.
"What, is he famous or something?" Annie asked.
"Now that you mention it, he seems familiar." Marty muttered, uncertain.
"You've been riding with him the entire time, and didn't know who he was?"
"No..." Annie said, with a hint of "should we have?" in her voice.
"Wait a second," Marty said. "Jeffrey Donovan. That wasn't that cannibal killer guy, was it?" He looked around.
"Awww, come on, Marty." Jeff said, a false hurt expression on his face. "Do I really seem like a cannibal killer to you? That's Jeffrey Dahmer."
"So who are you then?" Marty asked, confused.
"Heh, I'm an actor." Jeff replied. "Well, I was an actor. Not anymore really."
"Really, what were you in?" Sarah asked. She seemed interested.
"Well, I was in Burn Notice before all this crap stated happening. I'm sure you've seen it. Michael Weston? Ex-spy? Ring any bells?"
"Actually... I haven't seen it." Sarah said sheepishly.
"Seriously? It's one of the biggest shows on TV right now." Jeff shrugged. "Oh well."
"I've seen it once or twice." Marty said. "I don't know why I didn't see it before."
Of course, I'd seen it.
"Mr. Donovan, I gotta say, I'm a big fan of all your work."
"First off, call me Jeff. Mr. Donovan is my dad." He grinned. "And you enjoyed all my work? Ever see Blair Witch 2? Matt, I was IN that, and I didn't like it."
"Yeah, fair enough." I laughed. Then, I indicated over to Will. "Will over there is actually related to Bruce Campbell. Some cousin or something."
"Really?" Jeff said. "That's cool. Yeah, Bruce was a great guy. Really funny, all the time. I'm gonna miss him."
"...Wait a second." Annie said after a minute. "If you're an actor, shouldn't you be out in Hollywood or something? I mean, we ran into you on the highway. What're you doing in the middle of Tennessee?"
"Good question." Jeff conceded. "What is was, most of my family is back in Boston. So, I was flying back in order to get them and get out. However, my flight got grounded in Nashville. So, I found a car, got out, and ran into you guys."
"Wait, why didn't you just keep going towards Boston?" I asked.
"Matt!" Sarah whispered sharply. "Boston was one of the places that got nuked!"
"Oh..."I stammered for a moment. "I'm sorry."
"It's alright." Jeff replied. "You didn't know. At least it was quick for them. Don't worry about it." He seemed to stop, looking for another conversation topic. I found one.
"So, what kind of stuff do you guys have to trade?"
"Tons of stuff." Marty said happily. "We've got flashlights, tents, sporting goods, matches, batteries, books, and more. Anything you need, we probably have." He chuckled.
We talked about general stuff for a while, then moved around. I got to watch a fairly awkward conversation between Bryan and Sarah, with Bryan nervously attempting to make small-talk. It made me laugh, remembering how I had been a few weeks earlier.
This party continued on into the evening. We ate around six o'clock, and everyone agreed that the food was good. Also, we'd decided to let Marty and co. stay the night, so we agreed to leave the trading until the next morning.
After dinner, we all just kept joking around and laughing. I found myself to be very hyper, happily dancing along to the music from my Ipod. I I was actually a pretty good dancer, but I never took myself seriously; I just tried to make as big a fool of myself as possible.
At one point the song "Boot Scootin' Boogie" by Brooks and Dunn came on, and everybody got a kick out of my performance.
"C'mon everybody!" I shouted merrily, bouncing around the yard. "Let's boot! Let's scoot! Let's boogie!"
"I'm with ya, bud!" Will laughed, hopping up from his chair and beginning to dance. Again, like me, he didn't take himself seriously.
"Aw hell, I'll dance too!" Gramps said, standing up. The three of us proceeded to make absolute idiots of ourselves, laughing the entire time. When the song ended, we retired to our chairs while everyone applauded us and laughed.
"Hey, Matt." Sarah said, wiping her eyes from laughing. "I never knew you could dance!"
"You ain't the only one full of surprises." I replied, taking a drink and grinning.
"Well, in that case..." She gave a sly grin. "I've got somethin' for you, Mr. Movie Buff." She got up, and walked over to the Ipod. She searched through it for a minute.
"Holy hell, it's actually on here!" She smiled, then pressed a button.
In a few seconds, the song "Footloose" by Kenny Loggins came on.
"Oh crap." I muttered.
"Aw, c'mon Matt!" Sarah said, starting to dance. Then she switched to quoting the movie. "Hey hey! What's this I see? I thought this was a party! Let's daaaaaaance!" Everyone laughed.
"Oh, alright." I said, standing up. Sarah ran over, taking my hand.
"Hold on a sec." I said. It was my turn to quote. "Just watch, alright!" With that, I began hopping up and down, shaking my arms, which was exactly what Chris Penn did in the movie. Then, I abruptly stopped, and struck a disco pose. Everybody cheered.
And so it went. I managed a passable imitation of the dance scene in the movie, mirroring many of the moves. Sarah did the same. By the time the song was over, we were both tired, sweaty, and grinning from ear to ear. We sat down as everyone applauded again.
"That was awesome, Matt." Marty said, leaning over and slapping me on the back. "You can really dance, man."
"Meh, I'm alright." I said, grinning sheepishly.
"You too, Sarah." He added after a second.
"Thanks." She said, smiling radiantly.
The next song to come on was some slower song that I didn't recognize. I watched as Mom and Dad started to dance together. My grandparents followed suit, then were joined by Sarge and Miranda. It was just an all-around cool moment, to see all of us so happy and full of energy. Even John was in a good mood, tapping his feet and shifting with the rhythm.
After a minute, Bryan walked up.
"Um...Sarah." He said nervously, scratching his head. "Do you wanna...um...?" He blushed, his face visibly flushed even in the darkening light. "Would you like to..."
"Dance?" Sarah finished.
"Um...yeah." He replied sheepishly.
"Well..." She cast a glance over at me. I shrugged; it was her decision. It wasn't like I'd be really jealous or something. Like I said, there were probably very few teenage girls left in the world.
"Uh...yeah, I'd love to." Sarah replied finally.
"Really?!" Bryan said, with an "oh ****" expression on his face. Apparently, he hadn't been expecting her to say yes. "I mean, great. Yeah, aweso-" He stopped mid-sentence, his eyes widening. Although, in hindsight, I don't blame him. 'Cause his left ear had vanished.
A millisecond later, I heard the crack of a rifle from down the road. I'd already started moving, grabbing Bryan and shoving him roughly to the ground. I flipped over the table as fast as I could; it wasn't good cover at all, but it was better than nothing. I sensed everyone else moving, diving for cover and grabbing weapons. On the edge of panic, I looked to see who was around me: Bryan, who was still in shock; Sarah, and Jeff.
"Y'all okay?" I whispered.
"Yeah, we're fine!" Sarah hurriedly said back.
"You see where the shot came from?" Jeff asked, checking his Mossberg. I looked down to find my Marlin in my hands; I didn't remember picking it up.
"No idea." I said, looking around frantically. Oddly, no other shots rang out. I could see my parents and grandparents crouching beside the porch, but I couldn't see anyone else.
"Is he gonna be okay?" I asked, meaning Bryan.
"Um...I think so." Jeff said, looking him over quickly. Bryan was still conscious; that was a good sign. Still, he seemed to be in shock, since he wasn't yelling or anything. I could see blood dribbling from what was left of his ear; more than half of it was gone. Quickly, Jeff tore off Bryan's shirt, and wadded it up into a ball. Then, he pressed it against Bryan's ear, which resulted in him moaning dully.
"Keep pressure on this!" He instructed Sarah. "Matt, you see anything?!"
"Hold on!" I decided it was worth the risk, and popped my head up. In the near-darkness, I could see a van parked around 100 yards down the road. Three or four people looked to be standing around it. Then, I quickly put my head back down when I heard a shotgun blast. But, judging from the proximity, it had come from one of us (most likely Sarge of Will.)
I relayed to Jeff what I'd seen. He nodded.
"Okay, we need to figure out what to do. Maybe they aren't dangerous; they could've thought we were zombies or something.
"We were walking and talking to each other." I said bluntly. "I don't think they're that dumb." Jeff opened his mouth to respond, but was cut short by a burst of static.
"What was that?!" Sarah asked, looking up from Bryan. Jeff looked down at his waist. I saw a walkie-talkie attached to his belt.
"You've got a radio?" I asked hurriedly. Then, I ducked; another gunshot echoed around the yard. It wasn't one of us shooting.
"Yeah. We used 'em to communicate between cars. They must be using the same channel." He unclipped it. "Here." He tossed it to me.
"Thanks." I muttered. Then, I keyed the mic. "Hello, anyone there?!" I said. "Who are you guys?"
"Who do you think we are?" A voice replied.
My blood froze.
It was the man I'd bashed at the Whitford's.
“****.” I muttered.
“What’s wrong?” Sarah asked.
“It’s the same ******* that came after us at Sarge’s place.” I saw Sarah’s eyes widen with fear. The radio crackled again.
“You’re the little ******** that hit me with the gun, right? It sounds like you.” I heard him laugh. “Well, you picked the wrong guy to do that to. Not so tough when I have friends too, huh?” After he keyed off, I heard several shots come from down the road. A few of us returned fire, to no effect.
“Listen, we don’t want to fight.” I said; no sense in anybody getting killed. “Just leave now, and everything will be fine.”
“Oh, shut up!” He cut in. “You think I’m gonna leave after what you did to me? No way in hell. I’m gonna get revenge.” He paused. “I’m going to flay you alive, kid. I’m going to give you ten times what you give me. So get ******’ ready.” He stopped, and I heard more shots. I saw sparks as one of them pinged off the porch. “Oh, and that applied to your girlfriend too. Well, it might take me a little longer on her. I might have some fun first.”
A bolt of rage flowed through me, just as strong as it had the first time I’d met that man. But, it was odd; I felt strangely calm.
“Okay, I want you to listen to me, and listen very carefully.” I said in a monotone. “I’m giving you one last chance to leave and never bother us again. If you don’t, I will rain hell down upon you until one of us is DEAD. And I’m very good at raining down hell.” I saw Jeff cast me a funny look; yes, it was a quote from Burn Notice. But I didn’t care.
“I’d like to see you try.” The guy replied, laughing uproariously. I tossed the radio away. I didn’t need it anymore.
“Any ideas, Matt?” Jeff asked. I thought for a minute.
“Yeah, I’ve got one. I’m going to try to distract them. When I do, go get John, my dad, and my grandfather, and head through the woods. Try to get close enough to take them down.” I paused, rage still driving me. “But, there should be a guy with a messed-up face. Try not to kill him; he’s mine. You got any suggestions?”
“No, that sounds good to me.” He replied. “You may need to find a better place to distract them from than here. Sarah, we don’t want you and Bryan in the crossfire.” I looked around for a sturdy place. I could probably reach the corner of the house if I sprinted. It would provide decent cover. It would be dangerous, though: there was an increasing amount of fire between our group and the raiders (I couldn’t think of a better definition for them.) Still, it had to be done.
“Okay, here I go. Three...two...one...now!”
I jumped up and ran.
“Cover me!” I shouted to everyone as I ran. I got a rough of idea of where they were all at: like I said, my parents and grandparents were at the porch; Will and John were crouched behind Marty’s truck; Marty and Annie were also behind a truck; Sarge and Miranda were nowhere to be found.
Miraculously, I made it to the side of the house without being hit, though I had heard a distinct increase in fire from the raiders as I ran.
I turned around, to see Jeff ready to run towards the porch; I just needed to distract the raiders. I figured the best way was to make as big of a commotion as possible.
"YIPPIE KAY-YAY, *************!" I screamed leaning out from my cover. I could actually see them pretty well, so I raised my rifle and fired. It didn't look like I hit any of them, but that didn't matter; I just needed to keep them busy while Jeff got everyone together. I fired twice more, then ducked back as a volley struck the side of the house, sending chips of brick flying everywhere. One struck my arm, causing me to jerk it backward and wince.
Thankfully, everyone else seemed to get the idea. I heard Will and Annie open up to my right; their shotgun and pistol rounds were ineffective at this range, but it was still helpful.
"Will!" I shouted, leaning out and firing again. "Git some music on! Something loud." I hoped it would cover the noise of Jeff getting everyone.
"Why?!" He shouted back, ramming a shell into his shotgun.
"JUST DO IT!" I hollered. He didn't argue.
"Mom, Grandma! Cover him!" I said. I didn't hear their response, but I heard them firing towards the raiders as Will dashed towards the speaker. Jeff took advantage of the confusion, using his time to get to the porch and reach Dad and Gramps.
After reloading, I shot again. This time, I heard the windshield of the van shatter; that got their attention.
Finally, Will got the speakers going. The song "Kickstart My Heart" by Motley Crue blasted around us.
"Aw, hell yeah!" I shouted, feeling pumped. I realize now I should have focused more; but oh well. "Let's kick some ass!" I hollered, shooting as fast as I could. I saw one guy drop his gun and clutch his arm.
"That's one down!" I cheered, only to have to dive to the ground when their return fire came.
This firefight continued for a bit, with volleys from us met by barrages from them. After a minute, I looked around and didn't see Jeff and co., so I assumed they'd made it to the woods. Now, it was just a matter of buying time.
"Oww, damn!" Annie said, reeling. "I'm hit!"
"You alright?!" I shouted, worried. I risked a glance to my right, to see her bleeding from the side. She winced.
"I think so!" She replied. "It just nicked me!" As if to show she was okay, she picked up her pistol, reloaded, and started shooting again. Marty, who didn't have a gun, tried to check where she was hurt.
"Got the bastard!" Mom yelled. I looked; one of the raiders had gone down.
"Nice!" I shouted. "Don't let up." I finished loading my Marlin, and prepared to fire again. But I didn't need to.
From out of the woods, around twenty yards from the raiders, came four quick shots. The three remaining men who were standing (including the one I'd shot in the arm) all went down. A moment later, I saw our guys emerge from the woods. I couldn't believe it; my "plan" had worked.
"Take that, ya bastards!" Will said, hopping up and down.
"Everyone okay?" I asked, looking around. "Annie, how're you doing?"
"I'm okay! She said. "Like I said, they just nicked me. "She lifted up her shirt, to reveal a perfectly straight gash on the side of her torso. She was right; it wasn't deep at all. She looked like she'd be fine.
"It hurts like hell, but I'm okay."
"Sarah, how's Bryan doing?!" I hollered, standing up and walking over to them.
"He'll be okay." Sarah replied. "The bleeding's stopped." Bryan, who was leaning against the table, flashed a shaky grin and a thumbs-up.
"You okay, dude?" I asked him.
"What?" He said. I realized his hearing was probably damaged.
"ARE YOU OKAY?" I shouted, flashing the "okay" symbol. He smirked.
"I'm just kidding, man. I can hear fine. All it did was go through the outer part. I've got a bad damn headache, but that's all." He removed his torn shirt from his ear, to reveal the damage. Indeed, a large chunk of it was gone. But, it had indeed stopped bleeding, and the bullet had obviously passed right through.
"Glad to hear it." I replied. "No pun intended. Now..." I looked towards the van, where our guys were keeping guard. "Let's see what we've got."
"You guys okay?" Dad asked as we approached the van.
"For the most part." I replied.
"I got hit." Annie said, still in pain. "But I'll be fine, though. Just a scratch."
"How're you doing?" Jeff asked, gesturing to Bryan, who had walked up shakily.
"I'm okay." He said. "Whoever tried to shoot me basically missed. My ear is shot to hell, but I can hear fine."
"That reminds me..." I said, stepping forward. Gramps and John were in the back, their guns trained on the one surviving raider. Not that he was in any shape to fight back; he'd been shot in the legs several times, and was bleeding from a wound in his shoulder. However that wasn't the most shocking injury. His face was literally just a mass of sutures and stitches, the face underneath only half recognizable. But, sure enough, it was the same face that had stared at me from behind a pistol a week before. However, this time, it wasn't full of smug confidence; it was full of fear.
"I'm surprised you're still alive." I murmured, peering down at him. I wanted to enjoy this a little. Any compassion I may have had was gone; it was replaced purely by anger and malice. "I woulda thought that rifle stock would have damaged your brain or something. Oh well." I drew my handgun, and crouched down.
"I gave you a chance to go away, and look what happened." I thumbed the safety on the gun. "You lost."
The man looked up at me, his mangled face contorted in hatred. "No." He whistled, and, seemingly from out of nowhere, three men and a woman appeared, all of them heavily armed, with their guns trained on us.
"Put your hands up, and drop your guns!" One of them said, leaning heavily into some AR-15 variant. I sensed everyone looking to me to decide what to do.
"...Do what they say." I said after a minute, dropping my pistol and feeling fear knot my stomach. We probably could've taken them, but not without heavy casualties. It wasn't worth the risk. Therefore, everyone begrudgingly dropped their weapons.
I felt like such an idiot. They'd pulled the same ploy we had, and we hadn't even seen it coming. Now, it even made more sense; why would four guys have attacked a heavily-armed group like us? So stupid of me. Also, I realized now that Bashman's (I had forgotten his name, and that seemed fitting) fear had been faked, to lull us into a false sense of security.
I felt someone tap me on the shoulder. I looked up to see Bashman, supported by one of the guys, staring down at me.
"You lost." He said, his face crinkling in what I assumed to be a smirk.
I looked to be out of options. My mind buzzed, trying to think of something I could do. But nothing came up.
"I can't believe you fell for that." Bashman gloated. “I have to admit; your guys coming through the woods was pretty good. But, didn’t you stop and think that we could do the same thing?” He stopped, and began coughing; despite his bravado, he was still seriously wounded. When he finished, blood stained the front of his shirt.
"Alright then. I'll give you a choice." He was handed a black polymer handgun from one of his friends. "Which one of you should I shoot first? Your choice."
"Shoot me." I said without hesitation. "I'm the one you want."
"Matt, no!" Mom said.
"You shut up!" Bashman said, turning to point the gun at her. He sneered. "It's his choice, ma'am." He said in a mocking-polite tone. "But no, I'm not going to shoot you first." He grinned at me. "You're going to watch everyone else die, then I'll shoot you."
"What the **** are you?" Will said, looking up at him. "Some cheesy movie guy that explains what he's going to do beforehand?" Bashman simply glared at him, then, without warning, lurched forward and smacked Will in the face with the gun.
"You bastard!" John yelled, trying to stand up but being forced back by a man with a shotgun. Will coughed, spitting blood and teeth onto the road. He moaned with pain, and looked dazed.
"Nevermind, then." Bashman said, smiling. "you don't have to choose." He kicked out, catching Will in the stomach and forcing him to the ground. He raised his pistol, his finger tightening on the trigger.
"NO!" I screamed.
The gun went off.
When I heard the shot, I shut my eyes immediately. I couldn't bear to see it. When I opened them a second later, however, I turned to see Will alive and well. Bashman was standing there, clutching his bleeding hand. The mangled pistol lay about twenty feet away, it's frame shattered by a rifle bullet.
"Who the **** was that?!" One of the raiders said. He turned and looked for a shooter.
They ALL turned and looked for a shooter.
I saw my chance and I took it; I'm not ashamed of it. When they all whirled to look, I dove down and grabbed my 1911. Without thinking, I fired three rounds into the nearest raider. He fell. Apparently, some other people had the same idea. John had grabbed his carbine and emptied it into the raider nearest him. Gramps and Dad had done the same.
In a split second, the tables had turned again. The raiders were down; the only one left was Bashman, now lying there on the ground dully, since the raider that had supported him was now in a pool of his own blood.
I stood up shakily, picking up my rifle as I did so. Everyone else stood up, too, and looked around. John quickly stepped over to Will.
"Are you alright?" John asked him.
"I'll...be okay." He said, talking obviously painful for his bloodied mouth. He began to hyperventilate. I didn't blame him; he'd almost been shot.
"Where'd the shot come from?" Sarah asked looking around. As if to answer her question, Miranda and Sarge emerged from the trees to our right.
"Sorry it took so long!" Sarge said. "It took us a while to get up here without them noticing."
"That's fine." Mom said. "We're just good y'all got here."
"Hell of a shot." Gramps noted.
"If you guys don't mind..." I said, my voice ice. I didn't care that I had just killed a man; it barely registered. I was just angry. I turned to look at Bashman, this time cowering with real fire. "I'd like to deal with this problem before we celebrate."
I walked towards Bashman, holding my rifle with a white-knuckled grip. He scooted back frantically, trying to avoid me.
"Hey, man." He said, his eyes widening. "Please, don't kill me."
"I believe..." I replied, feeding rounds into the gun. "That you tried to kill us all. That you tried to shoot me and rape Sarah. Twice."
"I...I was just messin' with you, man." He said, tears forming on his face. "Just trying to scare you! I didn't mean it. I swear to god, I didn't mean it!" I stopped, and took a slow look around. Everyone was looking at me, but they weren't going to stop me. I thumbed the safety on the gun.
"NO!" Bashman screamed, sobbing. "PLEASE! I'll never come back, I swear. Please, don't kill me!"
This would normally be time where I'd say something, most likely a movie quote.
I didn't. I pulled the trigger.
The next day, all of us were sitting on the porch. After going through all of the raider's gear, we had agreed to get down to business in terms of trading. However, the only thing the raiders had really brought were guns and ammunition; so Marty, Jeff and co. were set in terms of guns. They didn't need any from us.
"So...who wants to start it off?" I asked. I was actually kinda eager; this seemed like it could be fine. "You ready Grandma?" My grandmother had volunteered to write down whatever we agreed to trade so we could keep track.
"You know what?" Marty said after a minute. "Why don't you just look through the truck and tell us anything that you want? That'll be easier." Everyone agreed to it, so Annie and Jeff went to go get the trucks. Annie was doing very well considering that she'd been shot; we'd cleaned up the wound and bandaged it. Although she said it was still painful, it didn't hinder her. Bryan was even better; he complained of a headache, but was otherwise fine.
"Heads up, guys." Mom said, pointing. Three zombies had emerged from the woods. Dad, Sarah, and I all lifted our guns.
"Wait!" Marty said. "Can I take these guys? I want to get used to this thing." He had taken a Mossberg 464 lever-action off one of the raiders. Slowly, he raised it to his shoulder; this would be the first time he'd shot it. I'd shown him how to work it last night, but he still wasn't too comfortable with it.
"Remember Marty." I advised. "You've got plenty of time. Just line up the shot, breathe out, and pull." He nodded, concentrating on the target. Slowly, he exhaled. I saw his finger tightening on the trigger.
Bam! Marty flinched heavily when the rifle fired. Still, he managed to hit the leftmost zombie in the torso.
"Not bad." I commented.
"One small problem." Marty replied. He grinned sheepishly. "I was aiming at the middle one."
"Oh..." Was all I could say as Marty lined up again. This time, his shot was a little better; he hit the one he aimed at, anyway. The zombie, a middle-aged man in a polo shirt, paused for a moment, then kept coming. Still, we weren't in any danger; it would take at least another minute for them to get close.
"Okay, I think I've got him this time." Marty said, racking the lever on the gun. He aimed carefully, bearing down on his target. His finger gripped the trigger.
Bam! The zombie reeled; it had been struck in the throat.
"Dammit!" Marty muttered. He racked his gun again.
"That ain't too bad. You were close." I said. "I think I see the problem; you're yanking the trigger. That throws you aim off. Just apply even pressure."
"Yeah, it ain't your d1ck, don't yank it." Bryan said. Marty, without looking over, gave him "the finger" and went back to aiming. I saw his finger rest on the trigger. Slowly, he exhaled.
Bam! Dead-on. The round entered the zombie's left eye, dragging tissue with it as it made its way through the skull. Brain matter and bone exploded out the back, and the zombie crumpled.
"Nice!" I said, as we all clapped in celebration. Marty grinned, and racked the lever. He seemed to have gotten the hang of it, as he dropped the second zombie with his next shot. He racked the gun, and started to aim again.
"Wait!" Bryan said after a second. Marty looked up.
"Is it okay if I get this one?" Brian asked, clutching an AR. "I'd like to give it a whirl. Marty shrugged in reply.
"Sure." He returned to his seat, and fed rounds into his rifle as Bryan took position.
"Just remember, Bryan. It's not your d1ck." He smirked. "Don't yank it every time Sarah looks at you." He laughed, and Bryan's face reddened. "Payback's a b1tch, isn't it?"
"Oh, shut up." Bryan murmured. He sighted down the barrel. This particular AR had a red-dot sight on it, so Bryan was able to aim with both eyes open. After a second, he fired.
He first shot was a complete miss. So was his second. However, he soon improved; he hit the zombie in the torso, then finally managed a headshot. We all clapped as he sat down and switched magazines.
"Nice job, guys." I said.
"Bryan, one thing I did notice." Sarge said. "You're a little too quick to look up. Stay on target; you'll be able to see if you hit him." Bryan nodded.
A moment later, Annie and Jeff pulled up in the trucks.
"We say you guys shooting." Jeff said, hopping out. "Nice work." Annie, because of her injury, was a little slower to get out. However, we soon gathered around the trucks.
"Okay, the first truck is just full of random stuff. The second one has weapons and ammo." Jeff explained. "Why don't we just start with the front one." We all agreed, and began peering inside.
Marty held up a large cardboard box. "You guys need some matches? There's ten boxes in here. Each box holds 500."
"Really?" I said. Even though we had power because of the panels, having lots of matches couldn't hurt. "What do you want for 2 boxes?"
"Um..." Marty considered. "How about ten bottles of water?"
"Done." I said. "Got that, Grandma?"
"Yeah." My grandmother replied, writing it down.
"Hey," Will said. He had hopped up in the back of the truck. "What do you want for this box of batteries?"
"What kinds are they?" I asked.
"AAs, mainly. Some AAAs and some Ds. Looks to be a lot of 'em."
"Umm..." Marty considered. "I don't know."
"How 'bout gas?" I asked. "I know y'all need lots of that. How about two gallons?"
"Sounds good to me." Marty replied.
I was about to say something, when a shiny collection of metal in the back of the truck caught my eye. I pulled it out and examined it. It was a paintball gun.
"What do you want for this?" I'd read somewhere that if you loaded marbles into them, they could kill zombies. I wanted to test out that theory.
Annie was actually the one to answer here.
"You guys got any fresh fruit?" She asked.
"No, sorry." Mom replied. "We ate the last of it earlier this week, sorry."
"Oh, that sucks." She replied. "Well, how about canned fruit. You guys have any of that? It isn't quite as good as fresh, but still."
"Yeah, we've got some." Mom said. "I think...ten cans of peaches, six cans of pears, and five of pineapple. We've also got vegetables too, if you're interested."
"How about three cans of each?" Annie asked.
"That seems fair." Mom said. Grandma nodded, scratching her pencil against the notepad. Grinning, I picked up the paintball gun and examined it. Sure enough, the gas canister was full; it was ready to go.
"Hey," Dad said. "Do y'all have anything we can make a fence out of? Chain-link or something?"
"...Nope, sorry." Marty replied. "I didn't think to pick up any of that."
"Holy crap!" Will yelled from the back of the truck. He held up what appeared to be rolled-up pieces of paper. "Why the hell do you guys have these?!"
"What are they, Will?" John asked. At the moment, he was examining a portable spotlight.
"They're GAY is what they are." Will replied, flipping the pages around. The were revealed to be posters for various things, like Twilight and Hannah Montana.
"What do you want for them?" I asked immediately. I felt everyone turn and stare out me as if I was nuts.
"Uh..." Marty said, dumbfounded. "Tellya what, Matt; you can just have those."
"Thanks!" I said eagerly. Still, everyone was staring at me. Will, absently holding the posters with one hand, scratched his head.
"Is there something you want to tell us, Matt?"
"Yeah..." Sarah said warily. "What use could we possibly have for those?" I turned to her, and beamed.
"Target practice."
This trading continued on for a little while, with us giving them things (normally food) in exchange for random stuff. John went ahead and got that spotlight. We got some books and movies, and Gramps traded his boonie hat to Marty for a few bottles of Jim Beam. We also got basic supplies like blankets, socks, and more. Once we'd finished with the first truck, we went over everything we had so far.
"So, are we all in agreement with the trades we've done?" Jeff asked. We all were. "Good, let's move on back to the second."
"Yeah, I'm basically gonna check out on this one." Marty said, chuckling. "I don't know much about this." Nevertheless, he joined us in looking through the truck. It was filled with boxes of ammo. In addition, there were hand weapons like machetes and baseball bats.
"How much you want for these?" Sarge asked, pointing to a box of .410 Defense shells.
"Meh, you can have them." Jeff shrugged. "We don't have any use for them."
"Hey," I said. "Do you guys have enough ammo for your guns?" In addition to the lever-action and AR that Bryan and Marty used, they both carried 9mms picked off of the raiders. Annie now had a Winchester shotgun, and Jeff had found a Glock 21 .45ACP.
"Yeah, I think we're good." Jeff said. " We've got several hundred 9 mils and probably five hundred shotgun shells. Also, we've got plenty of rounds for my .45 and Marty's .30-30. The rest is open to sale."
"How many 20 gauge shells do you have?" Grandma asked, peering inside.
"Right around sixty." Jeff replied after thinking for a second.
"What do you want for them?" She asked.
"Got any more gas?" We did. We agreed to give them five more gallons (which we'd drained from the raider's car.)
"Y'know, Grandma." I said after a minute. "I've been wondering. Why are you still using your double-barrel? Why not use something with more firepower? We've certainly found better guns."
"It's just what I've gotten used to, Matt." She explained. "Keep in mind; you're still using a lever-action even though we've got assault rifles." Well, AR-15s weren't technically "assault rifles" but I knew what she meant.
"Fair enough." I replied, and went back to scouring the truck.
"Hey, do you guys have hand weapons?" Jeff asked. "I didn't really see any,"
"Well..." I thought about it. "Dad has a hammer, like yours. Grandma has a hatchet; Will has a machete, and we found a baseball bat. But that's about it."
"Want some melee weapons, then? We found a hardware store that hadn't been completely looted. We've got a lot of hammers, knives, and more."
"Sure, why not?" I said. So, we made sure that each of us was properly outfitted with a hand weapon (I myself took a large bowie knife and a screwdriver, for good measure.) In exchange, we gave them some books that we didn't need, and more water. Since the well was still just about full, this was a pretty good deal on our part.
After a few more basic trades (like Gramps getting a box of .44s,) we were pretty much done. I felt pretty good. Both of us were walking away with what we needed; it was basically a win-win. However, after that, Marty and Jeff decided it was time for them to be on their way. So, we helped load the supplies onto the truck, then gathered to say our goodbyes.
"It was good meeting you guys." Marty said, shaking all of our hands.
"Well, you're welcome back any time." Dad said.
"Sorry we didn't have any yogurt for you, Jeff." I said, smirking.
"Aw, shaddup." He said jokingly, also moving to shake our hands. "You wouldn't believe how tired I got of yogurt while filming."
"Well, to be fair." Sarah said. "It doesn't look like you'll get much chance to eat it again."
"Yeah, I guess." He shrugged. "That's one thing I'm not going to miss." With that, he went to go get in the truck.
"Nice meeting you guys." Bryan said, standing back and attempting to look cool. Admittedly, it was difficult with his ear injury.
"You should be proud, man." Sarge said. "You took a good hit."
"Thanks," He said. I saw his eyes flick to Sarah. "Um..."
" Bye, Bryan." Sarah said, grinning. "Loosen up, man. You're making it too obvious."
"Making what..." He said. Then, he threw up his hands. "Aw, screw it!" He laughed, and started to get in the back truck.
"Bye guys!" Annie said, waving as she slowly got in the car.
"Make sure you take care of that wound." Miranda advised. "I know you're tough, but still, be careful." (Apparently, Miranda had a little medic training as well.)
"Will do." Annie replied, waving one last time as she close the door on the truck. Marty then got in, and started it up.
"See y'all later." He said as they pulled out of the driveway. We all waved, glad we'd met another good group of survivors. Then, I had to laugh as Marty ran over a zombie that was walking down the road. One less for us to deal with.
The zombie looked around, struggling furiously. In life, it had been a woman in hid mid-forties; now, it was simply a blood-soaked corpse. It's dark hair was a mess, clogged with leaves and assorted garbage. Its eyes, once a brilliant green but now dulled, were locked onto us, with animal rage and huger behind them. Black bile oozed from a quartet of bullet holes in its stomach. Still, no matter what it tried, it could not free itself from the rope.
"Alright," I said, checking the CO2 to make sure the paintball gun was full. "Let's see what happens."
It was mid-afternoon, around three o'clock. Will, Sarge, Sarah, and myself were in the backyard, watching the zombie struggle where we'd tied it to a tree. Catching it had been a relatively simple matter; Will had distracted it while Dad and I crept up behind it. We'd grabbed it, and wrapped duct tape around its mouth so it couldn't bite. Then, we had no trouble tying it to a tree so I could test out the paintball gun. I'd scrounged up some marbles from my room, and was eager to try it.
"Y'all ready?" I asked, looking around.
"Go for it, man." Sarge said. "Wanna place bets? Five bucks says it works." Even though money was of no use now, it was still fun to bet with.
"You're on." Will replied. "I've got five that says it doesn't."
"You're BOTH wrong." Sarah replied, laughing. "It'll work, but it will take more than one shot. I'll bet that it takes three shots." Their bets seemed to be settled, so I backed up to fifteen yards, and lined up the sight.
"Here goes nothin'" I said, then squeezed the trigger. I saw the marble exit the barrel with an audible clang accompanying it. It struck the zombie dead in the middle of the forehead. Her head snapped back, banging against the tree behind it. However, she quickly returned to snarling at us; her head was bruised and bloodies, but it hadn't cracked the skull.
"Damn!" Sarge muttered. He reached into his pocket to find money. In the meantime, I fired twice more into the exact same spot. Both times, the zombie reared, but still, the marbles failed to pierce the head.
"Crap." Sarah said, handing five dollars to Will. Sarge did the same.
"Told you!" Will said happily.
"Shoot her in the eye!" A shout came from behind us. I turned, to see John and Gramps walking towards us. Gramps pointed to his eye. "That'll work. Trust me." I shrugged.
"Okay." I lined up another shot, then squeezed the trigger. The marble rocketed out, striking exactly where I was aiming; the left eye. The eye turned to mush as the marble plowed through it. (Strangely, none of us were the least bit disgusted. I guess we'd just gotten used to it.) But, sure enough, the zombie stopped thrashing and sagged against the rope. Sarge turned and plucked the money out of Will's hand.
"Thank you." He said curtly, then began to laugh.
"Y'know..." John said. "I just though about something. You guys, including my son, were betting on whether or not something would die." He smirked. "We may need a psychiatrist."
"Aww, c'mon John." I replied. "It was already dead anyway."
"I know." He said. "Just kidding."
"How'd you know the shooting him in the eye would work, Gramps?" Will asked. (As a note, it had become common practice for all of us to call him "Gramps.")
"Oh, I used one of those as a crowd control device in 'Nam." He explained. "Only eye-shot were lethal."
"Really?" Will asked incredulously.
"Of course not!" Gramps said, dissolving into laughter. "You really think I'd use something like that?!" Will shook his head, grinning.
"Hey, you said you were a sniper, right?" I asked, curious.
"Yessir, I was." He replied. Before the outbreak, I'd never heard him talk in detail about the war. So it seemed like a good time to ask.
"Did you know Carlos Hathcock?"
"Who?" Sarah asked.
"Famous sniper." Gramps explained. "Heh, no, I was there after he went home. From what I hear, that boy could shoot." He went on. "Although, I did know Chuck Mawhinney; he was the only Marine with more kills than Hathcock. Great guy; ol' country boy like me." He laughed again. "All of 'em were. There were no tougher guys anywhere in the world."
"Of course." Sarge said, smiling. "They were Marines."
"Semper Fi." Gramps replied. I could see the camaraderie between them; an old Marine and a new Marine.
“How many kills did you have anyway?” I asked after a minute.
“Forty-three confirmed.” Gramps replied instantly. “Although, it was a lot harder to confirm them. Sure, they say forty-three, but I really got ninety-six of them. Trust me; I know.”
“Wow...” I breathed. John, standing next to Gramps, nodded in approval; although he didn’t have the bond that the two Marines did, he was a cop, so there was still something.
“Hey, Matt.” John said after a minute. “I’ve been thinking; maybe we should put a fence up around here.” He waved his hand to indicate the yard. “That way we can walk around relatively safely. At least keep the zombies out long enough for us to shoot 'em."
"Hmm..." I said as we began to walk back to the house. "That's a pretty good idea. One problem, though: where can we find the fencing at?"
"That hardware store in town might have one." Sarah offered. "It's probably been looted, but that may be left behind."
"Good point." I said. "Also, while we're there, we could check around for food and stuff." I thought for a minute. "We could probably go tomorrow morning. I'd rather not do it tonight."
"That's what she said." Will muttered.
"Shaddup, Will." I said curtly. "Anyway, who wants to go? I will, of course."
"I'm in." John said immediately. It was good to see him with eagerness and a goal; it was a sign that he'd be okay.
"I'll go." Sarah said. "Any chance to kill some zombies is good for me." She smiled.
"Miranda and I can finish it out." Sarge said. "If that's okay with y'all."
"Y'know, guys..." I said after a minute. "I've been thinking. Some of us have been out pretty much every time. But Grandma and Mom have never been out. Is it okay with y'all if I see if they want to first?"
"Oh, sure. Sorry." Sarah said quickly.
"Yeah, good idea Matt." Gramps added.
"Thanks." I replied. "Let's see. So, with Grandma and Mom...John, I'd like you to go. Sarge, you want to?"
"I already said I did." He said, smirking.
"Fair enough." I chuckled. So, we went inside and began making plans for the mission.
At around 11:00 that night, I got off watch. I crept through the house, trying not to wake anybody up. Slowly, I made my way into the bedroom, be careful not to make noise. But, I didn't have to worry about it. Sarah was waiting for me.
She was stretched out on the bed, the light from the lamp shining on her face. I had a brief fantasy that she was naked; but no, she was fully clothed. She smiled as I entered.
"Hi, Matt. See anything on watch?"
"Nope." I replied, sitting down next to her. I bent and kissed her. She replied in kind.
"Listen, Sarah." I said a moment later. "Can we talk for a minute?" She sat up, and turned towards me.
"Sure. What's wrong?" She asked, showing concern.
"Oh, nothing's wrong." I replied. "Nothing at all. I just...wanted to say how much I've liked the past week. With us being together."
"Oh, I have too!" She said, giggling and hugging me.
"It's just weird." I said. "It seems like before zombies came around, I had no shot with you."
"Well, if you'd just talked to me more." She said, playfully punching me on the arm. "Am I really that hard to talk to?"
"I dunno. Ask Bryan." I said, smirking. We both laughed. "No seriously, you aren't. It just that...you should be. You know what I mean?"
"Yeah, I do." She looked me dead in the eye. "I'm a pretty, popular girl. Therefore, I'm supposed to be snobby or something, aren't I? Sorry, Matt, that ain't my thing. Last time I checked, the dead are walking; I don't think too many people care how popular I am."
"Heh, I guess so." I replied. She leaned up against me, and was just sat there.
"Well, I guess now's as good a time as any." She said brightly after a moment.
"For what?" I asked dumbly.
"I'm glad y'all didn't see these; it was hard getting them from Marty." She reached under the bed, and pulled out something. It looked like a box. She handed it to me, and I looked down. My jaw dropped.
"I love you." I said bluntly.
It was a box of condoms.
It was awesome.
Chapter 3:
"I'm out!" Will screamed as his shotgun clicked empty. He ran from the groups of zombies approaching him, scrambling to reload.
"I've got you!" I said back, pulling out my rifle. It fired with a clanking sounds, the heavy rounds blowing the zombies to pieces.
"Guys, help!" Sarah shouted. "I'm down!" I looked to see her on the ground, with the zombies circling around her.
"****!" I muttered. I swung, and tried to take them down.
"Matt, help!" Will said. He was down too.
"Dammit!" I said. I didn't know what to do. Then, out of nowhere, my gun stopped firing. As a last ditch, I pulled out my knife, and slashed frantically. But it wasn't enough. The zombies crowded around me, and knocked me down. Darkness followed.
"Crap!" I said, setting the controller down next to me and taking a drink.
"We didn't do too bad, Matt." Sarah said brightly, laughing. "Level 15 at least."
"Yeah, we're gettin' better." Will said.
The three of us were sitting in my room; Sarah and I on the bed, and Will in a chair we'd dragged in. The TV was on, showing a screen from Nazi Zombies. It was a mode on a popular videogame, where people could band together and fight zombies in a house. Will and I had played it a lot before, but Sarah never really had. Now, for some reason, it seemed even more fun than it had before.
It was Monday, two days after our first raiding trip. We'd mainly been laying low; the solar panels were installed, and we had plenty of power. Our food and water supplies were good; put simply, we were set. Aside from the zombies that occasionally showed up, nothing bothered us too much.
Also, we had been surprised on Sunday; there had been no indication that the bombs had gone off. A few people on the Internet reported that many major cities had been incinerated (don't ask me how they knew without being blown up themselves.) Still, like I'd suspected, the effect on the zombies had been less than stellar. If anything, all it did was scatter them, sending them out away from the cities to the surrounding area.
That was another thing that still surprised me; the amount of people still using the Internet after the outbreak. I'd found a forum devoted to zombie survival, and four or five people were still active. I'd swapped stories with them, and learned a few things. Apparently, the outbreak was affecting certain people differently; two people had spotted running zombies. (Well, not running. Just moving faster than normal.) Nobody was sure why. It was just something we'd have to watch out for.
"You guys wanna play again?" Will asked, snapping me out of my thoughts.
"Nah, I'm good." Sarah said, getting up off the bed. "I'm kinda tired."
"Oh, you are, huh?" Will asked, smirking. "Matt been keeping you up at night? Hmmmm?"
"Shaddup, Will." I said, kicking at him.
That was another thing; Will had made it sure that everyone knew that Sarah and I were together now. Nobody objected or minded (Gramps had even said "About damn time"), and Will had moved into a separate room, but his constant jokes and comments were annoying.
In all honesty, Sarah and I actually hadn't done anything yet; there were no condoms anywhere in the house. Still, though, we were happy just to be together. Sarah had apparently known that I'd liked her for a while now; she just didn't feel the same until after the outbreak. Now, it wasn't like I had been stalking her or anything. I'd had several girlfriends, and I didn't follow her around. She was just the girl I always wished I could have.
Anyway, it didn't really change how anyone acted; we still laughed and joked around, and there were nonsense romantic acts by me; it was just a fact that we were together.
I shut off the game, and the three of us walked downstairs. John was on watch, but everyone else was just sort of hanging around. Mom, Grandma, and Mrs. Campbell were, to my surprise, watching Black Hawk Down. As I walked into the room, I caught a piece of dialogue I recognized.
"Othic, get in that truck and drive!" Colonel Danny McKnight was shouting on TV.
"But I'm shot, colonel!" Another character yelled back.
"EVERYBODY'S SHOT!" I yelled, in exact time with the movie. I laughed.
"How're you guys doing?" Grandma asked.
"Good, thanks." Sarah said.
"Hey, where are Dad and Gramps?" I asked.
"Reloading bullets in the garage." Mom said.
"Oh, cool." I said. I'd always enjoyed reloading." I might go out and give them a hand. Anyone else want to?"
"No thanks." Will said, flopping down on the couch.
"Sure, I'll come." Sarah said. "I don't know anything about reloading, though."
"That's alright; I'll show you how to do it." We turned and went toward the garage.
"Aww...ain't that cute?" Will sneered. "Romance blooms over bullets and gunpowder."
"Be quiet, Will." I said, chuckling. I knew his jokes were all in good fun. "Remember: Sarah and I could both kill you five times before you hit the ground."
"Hi, Matt. Hi, Sarah." Gramps said as we walked into the garage. It was a small, cluttered place, filled with tools and equipment. The stench of gas was hanging heavily in the air. M dad and grandfather were seated at a bench in the corner, with two RCBS bullet-reloading tools in front of them. There was gunpowder and a measurer, and a large box of empty casings we'd been saving. From the looks of it, my Dad was working on shotgun shells, and my grandfather was working on .223. My dad, who was carefully measuring out powder, looked up and waved, then went back to work.
"Hey." I said. "How's it coming?"
"Good." Gramps said, crimping the plastic of a shell. "We've gotten 20 12 gauges and 25 .223's done. Damn, they're so much faster to shoot then they are to load."
"Agreed." I said. "Sarah wants to learn a little bit about reloading; after y'all are done, mind if I show her?"
"Sure." Dad said, seating a bullet into a case.
"Wait a second." I said, turning to my grandfather. " What are you loading those shells with? I didn't think we had many buckshot pellets."
"We've got three boxes of double-ought. That's over 200 pellets." Gramps explained. "But, I haven't dipped into those yet. I've been using these." He opened his hand, to reveal small, black screws. "As long as they can fit in the shell, why not? Also, fishing weights and metal washers work." He chuckled, then carefully placed a few of the screws in the shell.
"Is that safe?" Sarah asked. I can see why she'd be concerned. I quickly explained that as long as they were a certain size, it didn't really matter what we put in the shell. Sure, accuracy wouldn't be as good from shell-to-shell, but it was good enough.
We spent the next half-hour reloading. Well, to be more precise, Dad and Gramps did most of the reloading; I was explaining to Sarah how reloading worked. After a little while, Dad relinquished his chair, letting me show Sarah how to do it. By the time we finished, a grand total of 37 12 gauges had been reloaded, and 41 .223s had been done.
"Well, I think we're about done." Dad had said, standing up.
Suddenly, we heard some fast footsteps inside the house. John burst through the door, and looked around frantically for us.
"Hey! Guys, I need your help."
"What's wrong?" I asked, picking up my rifle.
"There's a large group of zombies outside!" John said as we all gathered our weapons. Looks to be around forty."
"That doesn't sound too bad." Dad said. "We can just shoot from the windows."
"You don't understand!" John yelled. "They're following somebody!"
Sure enough, when we looked out in the window, a large group of zombies was coming down the road. Yet, running in front of them with all their might were a camouflage-clad man and woman. They looked (obviously) very haggard and tired. AI could see a handgun clenched in the man's hand, but he wasn't using it.
"****!" Will said. "Should we go out there and help them?!"
"Of course we should!" I yelled.
"I don't know, Matt." John said. "This could be a trap. We shouldn't just trust them."
"C'mon!" I said. "They looks like they're about to die. He's probably out of ammo. There isn't anything they could do to us! Who thinks we should help them?" I looked around. Mom, Mrs. Campbell, my grandmother, Sarah, Dad, Will, and Gramps all agreed with me. John was the only one opposed. He shook his head and sighed.
"Fine." He checked the load on his carbine. By this time, the couple was getting close to the house, though the zombies weren't far behind.
"Okay, guys!" I said. "Take up positions on the windows. Take down as many as you can. Someone has to go out and get him. I'll do it."
"Matt, no!" Mom said. "At least wait until we shoot some of them."
"There's no time!" I said. "We have to go out and get him now!"
"Paul, please help me here!" Mom said.
"She's right, Matt." Dad said. "It's too dangerous."
"I agree." Sarah said. "Someone else should do it." I could see the concern in her eyes.
"Well, I'd rather it be me than someone else. Look, I know y'all might not want me to, but I'm probably the one who's best-equipped to do it. I can run faster than you guys. Plus, y'all will have me covered from the windows. I'll be careful, but someone has to help him!" Everyone seemed to get that I wouldn't be swayed, so they relented.
"Fine!" Mom said, throwing her hands up.
"If you're gonna go, Matt." Dad said. "Take this." He picked up the Remington 11-87 autoloader from where it was sitting in the corner, and gave me all the shells in his pocket. "It'll be better for close range. I'll use your rifle." I handed him my rifle and bullets.
"Good luck, Matt." My grandmother said, patting me on the shoulder. I'd noticed she was speaking less and less lately.
"Dammit, Matt. Why do you have to be so freakin' stubborn?" She smirked, then handed me all of her shells as well
"Dunno." I smirked; despite the seriousness of the situation, this felt like the time for a movie quote. "Gimme some sugar, baby." I kissed her.
One by one, everyone wished me luck. Sighing, with my heart pounding in my chest, I approached the door. As I reached to open the door, I noticed Will standing beside me.
"What're you doing, Will?" I asked.
"I can't let you have all the fun." He said, loading his shotgun. "I'm coming with you."
"Oh no you're not!" Mrs. Campbell said, approaching. "You're staying here."
"C'mon, Mom." Will said. "I can't let Matt go by himself."
"Will, I said not to go out there!" His mother insisted.
"I'll be fine, mom!" Will said.
"THIS ISN'T A GAME!" Mrs. Campbell exploded. "Matt's a better shot than you! I'm not letting you go out and get yourself killed!"
"I agree with her, Will." I said. "Stay here, man. You won't miss much."
"Hey!" Will yelled. He was starting to get angry. "Don't talk down to me! I'm just as good as you are!"
"Will!" John yelled, coming downstairs. "Listen to your mother! Stay in the house!" I was surprised by all this; Will and his family had always seemed to have a good rapport.
"NO!" Will screamed. "I'm tired of always being the backup guy. I'm tired of being last in line. **** both of you! I'm going!" With that, he flung open the door and charged out.
"****!" I shouted. I saw John and Mrs. Campbell start out the door. "NO! Don't go out there! I'll get him! Guard the door so we can get back in!"
"But Matt-" Mrs. Campbell began.
"LISTEN TO ME! I'll get Will. Just make sure we can get back in." I turned, and sprinted out the door.
As I emerged on the lawn, gunshots began to ring out from above me. The group of zombies was still around 200 yards away, so aiming effectively was difficult. In no time, I'd caught up to Will and forced him to stop.
"What the hell are you doing?!" I asked angrily.
"Not now!" He said. "Let's get to them first!" We took off, sprinting towards the man and woman. They were only about 100 yards away. As we got closer, I realized that they were both very young; only a few years older than me. Their clothing was military-style digital camo. I could see that they were about at their limit of endurance. It looked as if they had been running for miles. Finally, we reached them.
“Guys, please help us!” The woman said. She had short, dark hair, and would have been pretty if she wasn’t so disheveled.
“Get to the house!” I shouted, raising my shotgun to face the approaching mob. “We’ll cover you!”
“Thanks man!” The man said. He was tall, with a blonde crew-cut.
“Thank me later!” I said impatiently. I looked down at his handgun, and realized it was a Taurus Judge .410 revolver. “Got any shells for that thing?!”
“No, I’m out.” He said between gasps of breath. I drew my 1911 and handed it to him.
“Take this then! Mag’s full. Now get to the house!” He nodded, and the both ran off shakily towards the house. Unbeknownst to me, the volume of fire from the house had been increasing as the zombie group got close to us. I wasn’t sure how many there were, but it was definitely a lot. They were around 50 yards from us now (i.e. around 150 from the house,) so the shooting still wasn't too accurate, but it helped. To my left, Will raised his shotgun and fired. A few zombies showed signs of being hit, but none went down.
“Don’t be an idiot!” I shouted at him. “They’re too far away. We gotta fall back and get to the house.”
"MATT!" I heard John shout from the door. "They're circling around!" I turned, and sure enough, a group of zombies was coming around my right side. They were less than 20 yards away.
"****!" I screamed, moving away. Frantically, I fired, the shotgun bucking against my shoulder. Geez, I wished I had my rifle. Either way, some zombies fell. Near me, I heard shotgun blasts from Will's Ithaca. I dug into my pocket for more shells. Feeding them into the gun, I began backing up towards the house. Then, I heard a terrible sound.
Will was screaming.
It wasn't a scream of anger or rage; just an unending yowl of pain and fear.
"WILL!" I heard John and Mrs. Campbell scream. By the time I turned around, they were right near me. They'd covered the entire distance in just a few seconds. I'd never seen human beings move that fast.
Mrs. Campbell swooped in, placing herself next to Will. Will was hollering, and holding his arm. He didn't look to be bitten, but had fallen and messed up his ankle. Many of the zombies were within biting distance, but John shoved him backwards, out of harm's way.
"GET HIM INSIDE NOW!" John said with such force that I leapt to it. I didn't want to leave him with the mob, but I had no choice. Walking backwards, I lead Will away. As I did so, I looked back.
And I saw a pair of demons.
The look in their eyes was nothing short of superhuman. It was so purely enraged, so purely focused, that it couldn't be real.
"Come on, you ************* sons of *******!" Mrs. Campbell screamed, spinning around. "You wanna mess with our son? Well, why not ******* mess with us?!" This personality was so at odds with her normal one. Either way, they both began firing. They were so fast that their rifles sounded like full-auto, but each and every shot was well-aimed. Zombies all around them fell like cordwood.
It was like something out of an action movie; the two of them stood back-to-back, establishing a full circle of death.
"I'm out!" John shouted. He ducked, and let Mrs. Campbell fire over him. He executed a perfect reload, then stood back up. In less than four seconds, a dozen more zombies were dead around them.
"Matt, come on!" Will said, trying to hobble forward.
Still, I couldn't help but look back. At this point, Mrs. Campbell's gun clicked empty.
Then she screamed. A zombie had latched onto her arm, and had bitten down.
"************!" John shouted, turning and putting at least five rounds into the zombie's face. "You okay?!"
"I'm fine!" Mrs. Campbell shouted back, finishing her reload and resuming firing, as if nothing had happened.
We continued running towards the house, and the Campbells continued their massacre. In fact, by the time we reached the door, they had taken down every last one of the zombies. Slowly, the demonic faces left them, and they looked around. They both shook their heads.
"...******* scum." John muttered after a minute. Mrs. Campbell nodded, paying no attention to her bite. Then, he charged with all his might to join us.
We raced inside, and set Will down in the living room. Everyone was there, including the man and woman we'd just rescued. They looked to be on the edge of keeling over.
"Owww, ****!" Will said. "Damn, that hurts." After a minute, we figured that he’d twisted his ankle. Painful, but he’d be fine.
"Mrs. Campbell, did one of them bite you?” I asked. No answer, so I tried again. “Mrs. Campbell, it looked like-”
"Yes, dammit. One of them got me." Involuntarily, I gasped. So did everyone else; we'd all seen zombie movies; we knew what this meant. Even though a few of us sort’ve disliked Mrs. Campbell, this was terrible.
"Oh God..." Will murmured. All of the unpleasantness and arguments of a ten minutes ago seemed to be forgotten. "Please...no." He looked like he was about to cry.
"It's okay, Will." Mrs. Campbell said somberly. "There's nothing we can do about it. It has to be done."
"How did you accept it so fast?" I asked, incredulous. She turned and looked me right in the eye.
"I'm not an idiot, Matt. I'm going to become a zombie if I don't kill myself. That's all there is to it."
"Carrie, no." John said. His shirt and pants were covered in blood. "There might be a cure-"
"There isn't, John." She cut in. "And even if there was, we don't have any. Personally, I'd rather die than become a zombie." She winced and clenched her arm. "That's weird. I can almost feel it spreading."
"Please, Mom, don't." Will said, tears beginning to roll down his face. I didn’t blame him.
"I have to, Will."
"...She's right, Will." John said. A stony look had come across his face.
"Well...how would you like to do it?" I asked, not believing what I was saying. Like I said, I didn’t care for Mrs. Campbell, but I just couldn’t accept the fact that she was dying.
"Hmmm..." Mrs. Campbell said. "Well, I want to be sure I don‘t come back." She thought for a minute. "Matt, we still have that elephant gun, right?"
"The .458? Yes, we do.” I knew where this was going.
"Well, get me that and a bullet. If I'm going to die, that seems to be the most surefire way."
"Sure thing, ma’am." I said, getting up and rubbing my eyes. I couldn't believe I was helping my friend’s mom kill herself; but, I agreed with her. It was better to be dead than a zombie. I went and got the gun, along with a box of bullets, and came back. As I walked into the room, I noted the blond man eyeing the gun carefully.
"Thanks." Mrs. Campbell said, then began saying her goodbyes to everyone. She didn't seem sad, really; just disappointed. Everyone else was upset, obviously. However, her voice broke when she got to Will.
“Will...” She sniffed. “Be careful out there. Don’t let what happened to me happen to you.
"Mom...I'm sorry for all the stuff I said earlier."
"It's okay, Will." She said
"I love you, mom. You and Dad have given me everything."
"I love you too, Will. With all my heart.” She hugged him, then slowly let him go. Then, Will turned to the man and woman.
"Listen, ma’am.” The man said. “What you did for your son was very brave. You should be proud. What‘s your name?”
“Carrie Campbell.” She said, reaching out and shaking their hands.
"I'm Miranda Stuart." The woman said. "Used to be a corporal in the Marines. You would've made a great Marine, ma‘am."
"Thanks." She said, smiling. She turned to the man. "And you are...?" The man smirked.
"Former Sergeant Pete Whitford." This caught all of us off guard. I should’ve seen it sooner; only he would have a Taurus Judge; only someone who owned the .458 would stare at it so intensely. Will, however, recovered quickly.
“Well, nice to meet you, even if it won‘t be for too long. Oh, we kind of...borrowed some stuff from your house.”
“I noticed.” He smiled wearily, and gestured to Will. “That Ithaca.” He then gestured to me. “His Remington, and that Winchester .458. Don‘t worry about it, though. You were just doing what you have to.”
“Will, give him his shotgun back.“ Mrs. Campbell instructed. Without any argument, he started to hand him the gun.
“No, it’s fine dude.” Pete said. “I wouldn’t use it. You keep it.”
“Thanks.” Will said. He obviously wasn’t focusing on that.
“Oh, here, you can have this back. “ I said, handing him the Remington. “I normally use a Marlin 336.” Pete nodded, and took the gun.
"Well, I guess that's everything." Mrs. Campbell said, standing up. "It's been nice knowing y'all. Stay safe." She smiled, and headed towards the door. John followed her; I assumed they wanted to say their goodbyes in private.
Five minutes later, I was in my bedroom with Will. He was smoking a cigarette. He had asked me to sit and talk with him for a little while.
"It's my fault." He muttered. "If I hadn't gone out there, Mom wouldn't have died."
"There was no way you could've known, Will. Don't blame yourself." He seemed to consider this for a moment, debating whether or not to blame himself further. Apparently, he decided against it.
"Thanks, Matt. Y'know, you're a good friend, man."
"You are too, buddy." He sighed.
"I just can't believe it. I'm never-" His voice broke. "I'm never gonna see my mom again."
"I know, pal. I know. I'm sorry" After a moment, Will seemed to calm down again.
"Actually..." He said. "This may be for the best. She's going to a better place, right?"
"Yeah..." I said, trying to mask my growing doubt of religion. "Where she's going, she doesn't have to deal with zombies, disease, or anything else anymore." At this, Will actually smiled.
"I'd kinda been fooling myself all this time, Matt." Will said, continuing. "I treated this whole thing like a damn zombie movie. Like none of us were gonna die or anything. I was such an idiot."
"No, you weren't." I replied. "I pretty much thought the same thing." It was true; I'd been holding on to the false belief we'd all make it through this. Now I knew it was wrong.
Neither of us spoke for a minute. Will took a long drag on the cigarette.
"Heh," He muttered. "My parents sure kicked a lot of ass earlier." Amazingly, he chuckled; it seemed like he was going to recover okay. I guess the idea of his mother going to Heaven was enough for him.
"Yeah." I said after a moment. "They were like Terminators."
Around twenty seconds later, the thunderous roar of the .458 echoed through the house.
John nearly died that night.
We knew that his wife's death had hit him hard; of course it would. After he came inside, he barely said a word all night. He just sat there, not looking at anything in particular.
I remember it clearly. We had all been sitting in the living room before it happened. The silence following Mrs. Campbell's death hung in the air like a toxin, so I tried to think of something to say.
"So..." I said. "What's your story, Sarge?" Sure, I could have called him Pete, but he didn't mind "Sarge" and it sounded cooler.
"Not much to say really." He grunted, cleaning his gun. He had retrieved his Benelli Vinci, and was stripping it. With each movement, I could see how in-tune he was with the gun. Also, the Colt 1911 from his house was next to him. “After the Pentagon got hit, our CO just kinda gave up. He said we could either stay with him or leave; he didn’t care. So, I got Miranda, and we just left. We had to give up our issued guns, but I got to keep my Judge. We were makin’ our way to my house when we got attacked. Damn things came out of nowhere. I must have shot a dozen of them, but there were just too many. They bogged down the truck, so we had to get out and run. We happened upon you guys.”
“And we rescued you. And my wife got killed.” John finished bluntly. It was the first time he'd spoken in a while. I could sense that he was more than a little hostile towards Sarge, since he had indirectly caused Mrs. Campbell’s death. I couldn’t blame him for being mad, but it wouldn’t help.
“Yeah...” Sarge trailed off. “I didn't mean for that to happen man, really."
“He means it. We're really sorry about Mrs. Campbell.” Miranda added. She was inspecting the Savage 110 that we’d taken from Sarge’s house. At her hip was the Glock 17 we’d taken off the man I’d bashed. I couldn’t remember his name. Whatever. “We’ll do whatever we can to repay you.”
“It was no...” I trailed off. I couldn’t say that it was no problem. I looked to Sarah for something to say, but she drew a blank as well.
“You’re welcome.” I muttered finally. Then, we all just sat there, listening to the faint clicks as Sarge and Miranda inspected their guns.
“Hey, Matt.” Will said. “Why not find a movie or something? A comedy, maybe.”
“That’s a good idea.” Mom said. “Something to take our minds off...well, you know.”
"Well, you guys can watch it." John muttered, standing up. "I'm going to bed." He trundled off towards the stairs.
"Well, any ideas on what we want to watch?" I asked.
"Anything, Matt." Gramps said.
"How about Ferris Bueller's Day Off?" Sarah suggested.
"Sounds good to me." I said, standing up.
I went up the stairs, and began walking down the hallway to my room. The door to the guestroom was slightly open; John must have left it like that. I walked up, and began to close it, but through the door I saw something that made my blood freeze.
John had his gun in his mouth.
I didn't think; I just reacted on instinct.
"JOHN, NO!" I shouted, trying to grab the gun. He looked up at me in surprise, the gun moving. I got ahold of the gun, and wrenched it to the side. John's finger curled, and his Glock went off, the report deafening in the small room.
"MATT!" I heard my mother scream. "What's going on?!" There was a mad rush up the stairs, and soon everybody was in the room. I'd managed to get the gun away from John, so I handed it to Sarah for now.
"John, what are you doing?!" Dad asked.
"I don't want to go on anymore." He said. He began to cry. "Without Carrie, I...I just don't know.
"John...you have to know." Dad said. "None of us could have predicted this. Killing yourself won't bring her back."
"I know that." John muttered, not looking at anyone. "But, then I'll be with her."
"No, you won't." My grandmother said. "She's in Heaven. If you kill yourself, you won't be."
"C'mon, John." Gramps said. "You can't blame yourself. When I was in the war, my spotter was killed."
"You were a sniper?!" I asked.
"Yes Matt. I'll tell you later. Anyway, he got killed in an ambush. For weeks, I blamed myself. I always thought of it like 'If.' 'If I'd seen the other guy first' 'If I'd gotten my gun up.' Things like that. But there was nothing I could've done." John looked at him, then sighed.
"I guess you're right. It's not my fault that my wife is gone." He turned and cast a burning glare at Sarge. "It's yours." He stood up, and approached Sarge, his fists balled.
"Hey, man." Sarge said, backing up and raising his hands defensively. "I had nothing to do with it. I just happened to come by here. I know you're angry, but there's nothing I could've done." Unfortunately, John wasn't listening.
"Because of you..." John continued. "My wife is dead. If you hadn't come here, I'd still have her."
"Listen, John, I'm sorry, but..."
John exploded.
"SHUT THE **** UP!" He shouted. "Because of you, Carrie is dead! I'm never gonna see her again, you son of a *****!" With the ferocity that he'd used to slaughter the zombie horde earlier, he swung at Sarge, catching him right in the nose. I heard it crack.
"OW! ****!" Sarge coughed, holding his nose. He started to advance on John, but then stopped, since John's mood had changed again. He was now sobbing.
"She's gone." He wheezed. "I can't believe she's gone." He sank to the ground. We all crowded around him, trying to comfort him. Miranda checked out charge; his nose was broken, but he'd be fine.
"I know it hurts, pal." Dad said. "But, this isn't how she'd want you to remember her."
"Yeah," I said, taking charge once again. "Do you think she'd want us all to shut down if she died? No. She'd want us to keep fighting; keep surviving; keep her memory alive. "For all we know, we're one of the last groups of people on Earth. We need to stay alive as long as we can. And we need you in order do that, John. We're all counting on you. We can't let anything get us down; we need to keep our spirits up, and keep going. Otherwise, we're no better than these goddamn zombies. Wherever Mrs. Campbell is, that's what she'd want." I looked around, to see everybody watching me. I hadn't meant to be dramatic or anything; I was just saying what was on my mind. But, apparently, they all agreed.
"You see what I mean, John?" He nodded, his crying subsiding. That looked to be a good sign; he would probably be okay.
After a minute, he stood up, and turned to Sarge.
"I'm sorry I hit you, man. It was out of line." He extended his hand.
"It's okay, I understand." Sarge replied, shaking John's hand. "Don't worry about it." I had to admit I was impressed; he didn't seem angry or anything.
"Is your nose gonna be okay?" Will asked.
"Hmm?" Sarge replied. "Oh, yeah. I'll be fine." He smirked. "I gotta admit; you punch pretty hard, John." He reached up, and cupped his hands around his nose. "Damn, this is gonna hurt." Then, with a gut-wrenching crack, he snapped his nose back in place.
"Owwww..." He moaned.
"Holy hell." I said involuntarily.
"I'm not gonna lie." Will added. Again, I was impressed at how well he was doing. "That was pretty freakin' awesome.
Three days later, a group of us were sitting on the roof, holding various rifles. There was an unusually high number of zombies that day. I figured it was the best time for some target practice. I watched as Miranda pulled off a perfect headshot on a zombie around 250 yards away.
"Nice job!" I said.
"Thanks," She replied, chambering another round. "In the Corps, I was SDM."
"What's that?" Will asked, confused.
"Squad Designated Marksman." Sarge, Miranda, and I all said at the time. We looked at each other, and laughed.
"Y'all doing okay?" I shouted down towards the other end of the roof, where my grandparents were sitting.
"We're good." Gramps replied, as my grandmother sent a round downrange. Her shot connected with the zombie, but didn't hit the head. Since her normal weapon was a shotgun, we'd thought she should to get used to a rifle, just in case the zombies were a little too far away.
"Y'know, Matt." Sarah said. "I've been wondering something. Why do we need to snipe them like this? They're so slow; if they're 200 yards away, we've got a good five minutes before they get to us."
"Actually...I don't know." I replied. "I never thought about it. Good point." I sat there for a minute, perplexed. "It just...seemed like something we should be doing."
"Well, it's fun as hell." Will said. He had been shooting slugs out of his shotgun, and been scoring hits out to 75 yards.
"Agreed." John muttered, sighting down his carbine. He let loose a round, striking a zombie a hundred yards away. He seemed to be doing okay after Mrs. Campbell's death; he was a little quieter than usual, but well enough. We'd basically agreed to forget about his attempted suicide.
"Hey, that one was mine!" Mom said jokingly. She pivoted, and shot a zombie coming out of the woods.
We were all in pretty good spirits; the day before, we'd raided a few more houses nearby, making sure we had enough food and water to get by. From the looks of it, we had easily a few month's worth. Luckily, we hadn't run into any raiders or freaks like at Sarge's place ("*******. Nice job, Matt." Sarge had said when we told him about the guy I bashed). With the addition of Sarge and Miranda, it was easier to send out scavenging groups while keeping people at the house. For example, John, Gramps, Dad, and Will had stayed out the house, with myself, Sarah, Sarge, Mom, and Miranda going out. We'd found some gas, and a few more guns and some ammunition, so we thought we were set. For now anyway.
We sat up on the roof like that for around a half hour, cleaning out the area. Soon, there were no zombies around.
"Well, that's about it for today, guys. Let's pack up and go in. Actually, I'll keep watch for a while. Sarah, you mind taking over after me?"
"Sure thing." She said, smiling as she gathered up our gear. Everyone started packing up, getting ready to take most of the rifles and ammunition down; we left the Vanguard up there, but I didn't really need it.
Everyone was just getting ready to go in when Mom had stopped and looked around.
"Matt, you hear that?" She asked.
"What?" I couldn't hear anything.
"Listen. It sounds like a car." She paused for a second. "No...two." As she said that, I began to hear it; far off, it sounded like an engine. And it was coming closer.
"Yeah, I hear it." I said. "Whaddya know; we ain't the only survivors around here."
"What if it's more of those guys like at Sarge's house?" Sarah said, tension in her voice. She still sometimes dwelled upon that guy.
"Well, then we'll shoot 'em to pieces." Gramps said cheerfully. I chuckled, but thought about it; I didn't want to risk a full-on shootout if that's who it was.
"Guys...maybe we should get inside. No sense in letting them know we're here."
"Too late." John said, peering sharply at the end of the road.
Two trucks had appeared around the corner. I could see two people in the front truck; no way of telling how many were in the rear one. I could see, however, that the back of each truck was loaded down with supplies.
"Crap." I murmured. "Okay, I need most of y'all to get inside. Dad, Sarge, stay out here, please. We don't have time to get everyone inside; if push comes to shove, I'll need you guys' help. Everyone else; set up positions at the windows, just in case."
"Hey, Matt." Sarah said. "Can I stay out here, too? I feel like I'll do more good." I thought about protesting, but by now the trucks had gotten close enough to see all of us.
"Uh, yeah, I guess." Everyone else scrambled to get inside, and I watched as the trucks pulled into our driveway.
"You think they're friendly?" Sarge asked. "I'm not sure about this, Matt."
"I'm with ya, Sarge." I replied. "But we really can't do much now. Let's just go down and see what they want. We've got the numbers advantage here. I don't think they're looking for a fight; but if they decide to, we can take 'em."
By the time the trucks had pulled to a stop, all four of us were standing to meet them. Our weapons were at low-ready; not pointed at them, but ready to bring into action in an instant. Also, I'd checked; everyone inside the house had us covered.
The doors of the front truck opened, and two men got out. I felt a slight adrenaline rush as I tried to read their intentions, but then I relaxed slightly; they didn't seem like they were looking for a fight.
The driver had been a shorter black man, with glasses and a trucker's hat. He looked to be in his late 20s. I quickly looked about for a weapon; there was a hammer in his belt, but no gun. Interesting.
The other guy was quite a bit taller; almost my height. He was good-looking, with a tan and short dark hair. There was a small scar on his cheek. He looked familiar, but I didn't know where I knew him from.
Honestly, I wasn't focused too hard on that at the moment. I was more focusing on the shotgun in his hand. It looked to be some Mossberg variant. However, he wasn't pointing it at us, and the safety looked to be on. I relaxed slightly.
"Afternoon." I said. "How're y'all doin'?"
"Not too bad." The black man said. "Well, as good as we can be. How 'bout yourself."
"We're doing good." I said, still trying to read them.
"That's a lot of stuff y'all have in there." Dad said. I don't think he meant to, but he sounded apprehensive.
"Yeah, it is." The taller man replied. I was surprised to hear a bit of a Boston accent in his voice. But, damn, it sounded familiar. "Look guys, we aren't looking for a fight or anything. Here, I'll prove it." He slung his shotgun over his shoulder. "I'm trusting you guys here not to shoot me, okay?" From the looks of it, he knew we wouldn't.
"As long as you don't shoot at us first, you've got nothing to worry about." They seemed to be okay, so we shouldered our weapons as well. Besides, everyone in the house was covering us, so I figured we'd be okay.
"We were actually looking for a group of people to trade with." The shorter man said. "Do you guys have any extra supplies you don't want. We'd be happy to swap."
"Uh..." I considered for a minute. "What are you guys looking for?"
"Guns and food, mainly." He replied. "We're pretty low on both. About a week's worth of food, and only two guns. We've got plenty of ammo; just nothing to shoot them out of. You have any extra guns you would be willing to trade?"
"Yeah, we've got quite a few. Hey, do you have any .410 shells?" I gestured to Sarge. "This guy needs some."
"Honestly, I know next to nothing 'bout guns." He replied. "You'll have to talk to Jeff here. He'll know." He jerked his thumb at the taller guy.
Jeff. ****, who was that guy?
Jeff considered for a minute.
"Um...yeah, I think we picked up a box a while ago. It's that Winchester Defense stuff. Lemme guess: you have a Judge?"
"Uh, yeah." Sarge said, taken aback. "Nice guess." Jeff chuckled.
"I know my guns."
"Oh, I think we're gonna be good friends." I replied. We all laughed.
"I just had an idea." Dad said. "You said you didn't have much food, right? You want to stay for dinner? We've still got power, so the 'fridge is full of stuff. We'll grill something up. Oh, and I don't think I caught your name." Jeff and the man looked at each, and nodded.
"That sounds great. Thanks." He laughed. "And my name's Marty. Sorry, I should've said that earlier. Nice to meet y'all." We shook hands, and we all introduced ourselves. But, for the life of me, I couldn't figure out where I knew Jeff from.
After talking for a few minutes, we went inside to let everyone know that it was safe. Everyone came outside, and introduced themselves. Afterward, John and Gramps began fiddling with the grill while we all talked.
Also, we got to meet the people in the second car. There was Annie, a black girl in her early twenties whom Marty introduced as his sister. She was in charge of the other gun the group had, a Bersa Thunder .380 pistol. Also, there was Bryan, a red-haired kid about three years younger than me. According to Marty, they'd found him sprinting past their house, and had offered to help him out. He was happy to see new people, and eager to talk to us. Honestly, I was happy to see them too; I was worried it would be like it was in the movies, where the only other people around would be raiders and psychos. It was good to know there were still nice people in the world.
It basically became a party after a while. We brought out the stereo, and hook up my Ipod to it. All of were talking animatedly to each other, swapping stories and experiences. Sarah and I talked a lot in particular with Marty, Jeff, and Annie.
"...so anyway," Marty said, finishing a story. "It turns out we weren't alone in that store. We were loading the clothes onto the truck when about ten zombies came up behind us. I just about pissed myself."
"No." Annie said. "You DID piss yourself." We all laughed.
"Either way, Jeff and Annie managed to put 'em all down."
"Heh, that's not too hard with a Mossberg at 10 feet." Jeff murmured, grinning. I chuckled, looking around. Something caught my eye. A little ways away, Will was talking with Bryan. But Bryan was paying him no attention; he was spending all his time staring at Sarah. I felt a little twinge of anger, then I thought about it; there were very few teenage girls left. When he found one, of course he was going to look. Either way, I nudged Sarah, who glanced over to where I was looking. She flashed a dazzling smile, and waved. Bryan looked away, embarrassed. We all laughed again.
"Poor kid." Marty said. "First pretty girl he's seen in a month, and he embarrasses himself."
"Oh, sorry." Sarah said. "I didn't mean anything by it. I was just kidding."
"Aw, he'll be fine." Annie said. "Give him two minutes and a secluded spot." She raised her eyebrows. "Y'know."
"Oh god..." Sarah replied, shaking her head. She couldn't help but smile, though.
"Yeah, puberty's a *****, Sarah." Jeff said. "Or, at least it was when I was a kid."
"If you mind my asking..." I said. "How old are you, Jeff? I could kinda guess on everyone else, but not you."
"Let me guess..." Sarah said. "Late 20s? Early 30s?" Jeff gave a winning smile, and laughed.
"Not even close." He said. "I'm 42."
"Really?" Sarah said. She apparently hadn't been expecting that.
"Now, c'mon. Would I lie about that?"
Hmm, he was 42. More info. Still, who the hell was this guy?
Suddenly, Jeff's expression darkened.
"Heads up, guys." He said, pointing. Two zombies were coming down the road. I shrugged.
"Meh, not too big of a problem." I whistled to get everyone's attention, then pointed. I put down one zombie, and Mom shot the other one.
"Where were we?" Marty said, as if nothing had happened.
"Well, I just said how old I was. I think that was it." He looked over towards the grill. "Your Dad and Gramps are making burgers, right Matt? I hope they don't burn 'em."
Burn.
That was it.
"YOU'RE JEFFREY DONOVAN!" I blurted. "Holy ****, that's where I know you from!"
"Guilty as charged." He smiled, shrugging.
"What, is he famous or something?" Annie asked.
"Now that you mention it, he seems familiar." Marty muttered, uncertain.
"You've been riding with him the entire time, and didn't know who he was?"
"No..." Annie said, with a hint of "should we have?" in her voice.
"Wait a second," Marty said. "Jeffrey Donovan. That wasn't that cannibal killer guy, was it?" He looked around.
"Awww, come on, Marty." Jeff said, a false hurt expression on his face. "Do I really seem like a cannibal killer to you? That's Jeffrey Dahmer."
"So who are you then?" Marty asked, confused.
"Heh, I'm an actor." Jeff replied. "Well, I was an actor. Not anymore really."
"Really, what were you in?" Sarah asked. She seemed interested.
"Well, I was in Burn Notice before all this crap stated happening. I'm sure you've seen it. Michael Weston? Ex-spy? Ring any bells?"
"Actually... I haven't seen it." Sarah said sheepishly.
"Seriously? It's one of the biggest shows on TV right now." Jeff shrugged. "Oh well."
"I've seen it once or twice." Marty said. "I don't know why I didn't see it before."
Of course, I'd seen it.
"Mr. Donovan, I gotta say, I'm a big fan of all your work."
"First off, call me Jeff. Mr. Donovan is my dad." He grinned. "And you enjoyed all my work? Ever see Blair Witch 2? Matt, I was IN that, and I didn't like it."
"Yeah, fair enough." I laughed. Then, I indicated over to Will. "Will over there is actually related to Bruce Campbell. Some cousin or something."
"Really?" Jeff said. "That's cool. Yeah, Bruce was a great guy. Really funny, all the time. I'm gonna miss him."
"...Wait a second." Annie said after a minute. "If you're an actor, shouldn't you be out in Hollywood or something? I mean, we ran into you on the highway. What're you doing in the middle of Tennessee?"
"Good question." Jeff conceded. "What is was, most of my family is back in Boston. So, I was flying back in order to get them and get out. However, my flight got grounded in Nashville. So, I found a car, got out, and ran into you guys."
"Wait, why didn't you just keep going towards Boston?" I asked.
"Matt!" Sarah whispered sharply. "Boston was one of the places that got nuked!"
"Oh..."I stammered for a moment. "I'm sorry."
"It's alright." Jeff replied. "You didn't know. At least it was quick for them. Don't worry about it." He seemed to stop, looking for another conversation topic. I found one.
"So, what kind of stuff do you guys have to trade?"
"Tons of stuff." Marty said happily. "We've got flashlights, tents, sporting goods, matches, batteries, books, and more. Anything you need, we probably have." He chuckled.
We talked about general stuff for a while, then moved around. I got to watch a fairly awkward conversation between Bryan and Sarah, with Bryan nervously attempting to make small-talk. It made me laugh, remembering how I had been a few weeks earlier.
This party continued on into the evening. We ate around six o'clock, and everyone agreed that the food was good. Also, we'd decided to let Marty and co. stay the night, so we agreed to leave the trading until the next morning.
After dinner, we all just kept joking around and laughing. I found myself to be very hyper, happily dancing along to the music from my Ipod. I I was actually a pretty good dancer, but I never took myself seriously; I just tried to make as big a fool of myself as possible.
At one point the song "Boot Scootin' Boogie" by Brooks and Dunn came on, and everybody got a kick out of my performance.
"C'mon everybody!" I shouted merrily, bouncing around the yard. "Let's boot! Let's scoot! Let's boogie!"
"I'm with ya, bud!" Will laughed, hopping up from his chair and beginning to dance. Again, like me, he didn't take himself seriously.
"Aw hell, I'll dance too!" Gramps said, standing up. The three of us proceeded to make absolute idiots of ourselves, laughing the entire time. When the song ended, we retired to our chairs while everyone applauded us and laughed.
"Hey, Matt." Sarah said, wiping her eyes from laughing. "I never knew you could dance!"
"You ain't the only one full of surprises." I replied, taking a drink and grinning.
"Well, in that case..." She gave a sly grin. "I've got somethin' for you, Mr. Movie Buff." She got up, and walked over to the Ipod. She searched through it for a minute.
"Holy hell, it's actually on here!" She smiled, then pressed a button.
In a few seconds, the song "Footloose" by Kenny Loggins came on.
"Oh crap." I muttered.
"Aw, c'mon Matt!" Sarah said, starting to dance. Then she switched to quoting the movie. "Hey hey! What's this I see? I thought this was a party! Let's daaaaaaance!" Everyone laughed.
"Oh, alright." I said, standing up. Sarah ran over, taking my hand.
"Hold on a sec." I said. It was my turn to quote. "Just watch, alright!" With that, I began hopping up and down, shaking my arms, which was exactly what Chris Penn did in the movie. Then, I abruptly stopped, and struck a disco pose. Everybody cheered.
And so it went. I managed a passable imitation of the dance scene in the movie, mirroring many of the moves. Sarah did the same. By the time the song was over, we were both tired, sweaty, and grinning from ear to ear. We sat down as everyone applauded again.
"That was awesome, Matt." Marty said, leaning over and slapping me on the back. "You can really dance, man."
"Meh, I'm alright." I said, grinning sheepishly.
"You too, Sarah." He added after a second.
"Thanks." She said, smiling radiantly.
The next song to come on was some slower song that I didn't recognize. I watched as Mom and Dad started to dance together. My grandparents followed suit, then were joined by Sarge and Miranda. It was just an all-around cool moment, to see all of us so happy and full of energy. Even John was in a good mood, tapping his feet and shifting with the rhythm.
After a minute, Bryan walked up.
"Um...Sarah." He said nervously, scratching his head. "Do you wanna...um...?" He blushed, his face visibly flushed even in the darkening light. "Would you like to..."
"Dance?" Sarah finished.
"Um...yeah." He replied sheepishly.
"Well..." She cast a glance over at me. I shrugged; it was her decision. It wasn't like I'd be really jealous or something. Like I said, there were probably very few teenage girls left in the world.
"Uh...yeah, I'd love to." Sarah replied finally.
"Really?!" Bryan said, with an "oh ****" expression on his face. Apparently, he hadn't been expecting her to say yes. "I mean, great. Yeah, aweso-" He stopped mid-sentence, his eyes widening. Although, in hindsight, I don't blame him. 'Cause his left ear had vanished.
A millisecond later, I heard the crack of a rifle from down the road. I'd already started moving, grabbing Bryan and shoving him roughly to the ground. I flipped over the table as fast as I could; it wasn't good cover at all, but it was better than nothing. I sensed everyone else moving, diving for cover and grabbing weapons. On the edge of panic, I looked to see who was around me: Bryan, who was still in shock; Sarah, and Jeff.
"Y'all okay?" I whispered.
"Yeah, we're fine!" Sarah hurriedly said back.
"You see where the shot came from?" Jeff asked, checking his Mossberg. I looked down to find my Marlin in my hands; I didn't remember picking it up.
"No idea." I said, looking around frantically. Oddly, no other shots rang out. I could see my parents and grandparents crouching beside the porch, but I couldn't see anyone else.
"Is he gonna be okay?" I asked, meaning Bryan.
"Um...I think so." Jeff said, looking him over quickly. Bryan was still conscious; that was a good sign. Still, he seemed to be in shock, since he wasn't yelling or anything. I could see blood dribbling from what was left of his ear; more than half of it was gone. Quickly, Jeff tore off Bryan's shirt, and wadded it up into a ball. Then, he pressed it against Bryan's ear, which resulted in him moaning dully.
"Keep pressure on this!" He instructed Sarah. "Matt, you see anything?!"
"Hold on!" I decided it was worth the risk, and popped my head up. In the near-darkness, I could see a van parked around 100 yards down the road. Three or four people looked to be standing around it. Then, I quickly put my head back down when I heard a shotgun blast. But, judging from the proximity, it had come from one of us (most likely Sarge of Will.)
I relayed to Jeff what I'd seen. He nodded.
"Okay, we need to figure out what to do. Maybe they aren't dangerous; they could've thought we were zombies or something.
"We were walking and talking to each other." I said bluntly. "I don't think they're that dumb." Jeff opened his mouth to respond, but was cut short by a burst of static.
"What was that?!" Sarah asked, looking up from Bryan. Jeff looked down at his waist. I saw a walkie-talkie attached to his belt.
"You've got a radio?" I asked hurriedly. Then, I ducked; another gunshot echoed around the yard. It wasn't one of us shooting.
"Yeah. We used 'em to communicate between cars. They must be using the same channel." He unclipped it. "Here." He tossed it to me.
"Thanks." I muttered. Then, I keyed the mic. "Hello, anyone there?!" I said. "Who are you guys?"
"Who do you think we are?" A voice replied.
My blood froze.
It was the man I'd bashed at the Whitford's.
“****.” I muttered.
“What’s wrong?” Sarah asked.
“It’s the same ******* that came after us at Sarge’s place.” I saw Sarah’s eyes widen with fear. The radio crackled again.
“You’re the little ******** that hit me with the gun, right? It sounds like you.” I heard him laugh. “Well, you picked the wrong guy to do that to. Not so tough when I have friends too, huh?” After he keyed off, I heard several shots come from down the road. A few of us returned fire, to no effect.
“Listen, we don’t want to fight.” I said; no sense in anybody getting killed. “Just leave now, and everything will be fine.”
“Oh, shut up!” He cut in. “You think I’m gonna leave after what you did to me? No way in hell. I’m gonna get revenge.” He paused. “I’m going to flay you alive, kid. I’m going to give you ten times what you give me. So get ******’ ready.” He stopped, and I heard more shots. I saw sparks as one of them pinged off the porch. “Oh, and that applied to your girlfriend too. Well, it might take me a little longer on her. I might have some fun first.”
A bolt of rage flowed through me, just as strong as it had the first time I’d met that man. But, it was odd; I felt strangely calm.
“Okay, I want you to listen to me, and listen very carefully.” I said in a monotone. “I’m giving you one last chance to leave and never bother us again. If you don’t, I will rain hell down upon you until one of us is DEAD. And I’m very good at raining down hell.” I saw Jeff cast me a funny look; yes, it was a quote from Burn Notice. But I didn’t care.
“I’d like to see you try.” The guy replied, laughing uproariously. I tossed the radio away. I didn’t need it anymore.
“Any ideas, Matt?” Jeff asked. I thought for a minute.
“Yeah, I’ve got one. I’m going to try to distract them. When I do, go get John, my dad, and my grandfather, and head through the woods. Try to get close enough to take them down.” I paused, rage still driving me. “But, there should be a guy with a messed-up face. Try not to kill him; he’s mine. You got any suggestions?”
“No, that sounds good to me.” He replied. “You may need to find a better place to distract them from than here. Sarah, we don’t want you and Bryan in the crossfire.” I looked around for a sturdy place. I could probably reach the corner of the house if I sprinted. It would provide decent cover. It would be dangerous, though: there was an increasing amount of fire between our group and the raiders (I couldn’t think of a better definition for them.) Still, it had to be done.
“Okay, here I go. Three...two...one...now!”
I jumped up and ran.
“Cover me!” I shouted to everyone as I ran. I got a rough of idea of where they were all at: like I said, my parents and grandparents were at the porch; Will and John were crouched behind Marty’s truck; Marty and Annie were also behind a truck; Sarge and Miranda were nowhere to be found.
Miraculously, I made it to the side of the house without being hit, though I had heard a distinct increase in fire from the raiders as I ran.
I turned around, to see Jeff ready to run towards the porch; I just needed to distract the raiders. I figured the best way was to make as big of a commotion as possible.
"YIPPIE KAY-YAY, *************!" I screamed leaning out from my cover. I could actually see them pretty well, so I raised my rifle and fired. It didn't look like I hit any of them, but that didn't matter; I just needed to keep them busy while Jeff got everyone together. I fired twice more, then ducked back as a volley struck the side of the house, sending chips of brick flying everywhere. One struck my arm, causing me to jerk it backward and wince.
Thankfully, everyone else seemed to get the idea. I heard Will and Annie open up to my right; their shotgun and pistol rounds were ineffective at this range, but it was still helpful.
"Will!" I shouted, leaning out and firing again. "Git some music on! Something loud." I hoped it would cover the noise of Jeff getting everyone.
"Why?!" He shouted back, ramming a shell into his shotgun.
"JUST DO IT!" I hollered. He didn't argue.
"Mom, Grandma! Cover him!" I said. I didn't hear their response, but I heard them firing towards the raiders as Will dashed towards the speaker. Jeff took advantage of the confusion, using his time to get to the porch and reach Dad and Gramps.
After reloading, I shot again. This time, I heard the windshield of the van shatter; that got their attention.
Finally, Will got the speakers going. The song "Kickstart My Heart" by Motley Crue blasted around us.
"Aw, hell yeah!" I shouted, feeling pumped. I realize now I should have focused more; but oh well. "Let's kick some ass!" I hollered, shooting as fast as I could. I saw one guy drop his gun and clutch his arm.
"That's one down!" I cheered, only to have to dive to the ground when their return fire came.
This firefight continued for a bit, with volleys from us met by barrages from them. After a minute, I looked around and didn't see Jeff and co., so I assumed they'd made it to the woods. Now, it was just a matter of buying time.
"Oww, damn!" Annie said, reeling. "I'm hit!"
"You alright?!" I shouted, worried. I risked a glance to my right, to see her bleeding from the side. She winced.
"I think so!" She replied. "It just nicked me!" As if to show she was okay, she picked up her pistol, reloaded, and started shooting again. Marty, who didn't have a gun, tried to check where she was hurt.
"Got the bastard!" Mom yelled. I looked; one of the raiders had gone down.
"Nice!" I shouted. "Don't let up." I finished loading my Marlin, and prepared to fire again. But I didn't need to.
From out of the woods, around twenty yards from the raiders, came four quick shots. The three remaining men who were standing (including the one I'd shot in the arm) all went down. A moment later, I saw our guys emerge from the woods. I couldn't believe it; my "plan" had worked.
"Take that, ya bastards!" Will said, hopping up and down.
"Everyone okay?" I asked, looking around. "Annie, how're you doing?"
"I'm okay! She said. "Like I said, they just nicked me. "She lifted up her shirt, to reveal a perfectly straight gash on the side of her torso. She was right; it wasn't deep at all. She looked like she'd be fine.
"It hurts like hell, but I'm okay."
"Sarah, how's Bryan doing?!" I hollered, standing up and walking over to them.
"He'll be okay." Sarah replied. "The bleeding's stopped." Bryan, who was leaning against the table, flashed a shaky grin and a thumbs-up.
"You okay, dude?" I asked him.
"What?" He said. I realized his hearing was probably damaged.
"ARE YOU OKAY?" I shouted, flashing the "okay" symbol. He smirked.
"I'm just kidding, man. I can hear fine. All it did was go through the outer part. I've got a bad damn headache, but that's all." He removed his torn shirt from his ear, to reveal the damage. Indeed, a large chunk of it was gone. But, it had indeed stopped bleeding, and the bullet had obviously passed right through.
"Glad to hear it." I replied. "No pun intended. Now..." I looked towards the van, where our guys were keeping guard. "Let's see what we've got."
"You guys okay?" Dad asked as we approached the van.
"For the most part." I replied.
"I got hit." Annie said, still in pain. "But I'll be fine, though. Just a scratch."
"How're you doing?" Jeff asked, gesturing to Bryan, who had walked up shakily.
"I'm okay." He said. "Whoever tried to shoot me basically missed. My ear is shot to hell, but I can hear fine."
"That reminds me..." I said, stepping forward. Gramps and John were in the back, their guns trained on the one surviving raider. Not that he was in any shape to fight back; he'd been shot in the legs several times, and was bleeding from a wound in his shoulder. However that wasn't the most shocking injury. His face was literally just a mass of sutures and stitches, the face underneath only half recognizable. But, sure enough, it was the same face that had stared at me from behind a pistol a week before. However, this time, it wasn't full of smug confidence; it was full of fear.
"I'm surprised you're still alive." I murmured, peering down at him. I wanted to enjoy this a little. Any compassion I may have had was gone; it was replaced purely by anger and malice. "I woulda thought that rifle stock would have damaged your brain or something. Oh well." I drew my handgun, and crouched down.
"I gave you a chance to go away, and look what happened." I thumbed the safety on the gun. "You lost."
The man looked up at me, his mangled face contorted in hatred. "No." He whistled, and, seemingly from out of nowhere, three men and a woman appeared, all of them heavily armed, with their guns trained on us.
"Put your hands up, and drop your guns!" One of them said, leaning heavily into some AR-15 variant. I sensed everyone looking to me to decide what to do.
"...Do what they say." I said after a minute, dropping my pistol and feeling fear knot my stomach. We probably could've taken them, but not without heavy casualties. It wasn't worth the risk. Therefore, everyone begrudgingly dropped their weapons.
I felt like such an idiot. They'd pulled the same ploy we had, and we hadn't even seen it coming. Now, it even made more sense; why would four guys have attacked a heavily-armed group like us? So stupid of me. Also, I realized now that Bashman's (I had forgotten his name, and that seemed fitting) fear had been faked, to lull us into a false sense of security.
I felt someone tap me on the shoulder. I looked up to see Bashman, supported by one of the guys, staring down at me.
"You lost." He said, his face crinkling in what I assumed to be a smirk.
I looked to be out of options. My mind buzzed, trying to think of something I could do. But nothing came up.
"I can't believe you fell for that." Bashman gloated. “I have to admit; your guys coming through the woods was pretty good. But, didn’t you stop and think that we could do the same thing?” He stopped, and began coughing; despite his bravado, he was still seriously wounded. When he finished, blood stained the front of his shirt.
"Alright then. I'll give you a choice." He was handed a black polymer handgun from one of his friends. "Which one of you should I shoot first? Your choice."
"Shoot me." I said without hesitation. "I'm the one you want."
"Matt, no!" Mom said.
"You shut up!" Bashman said, turning to point the gun at her. He sneered. "It's his choice, ma'am." He said in a mocking-polite tone. "But no, I'm not going to shoot you first." He grinned at me. "You're going to watch everyone else die, then I'll shoot you."
"What the **** are you?" Will said, looking up at him. "Some cheesy movie guy that explains what he's going to do beforehand?" Bashman simply glared at him, then, without warning, lurched forward and smacked Will in the face with the gun.
"You bastard!" John yelled, trying to stand up but being forced back by a man with a shotgun. Will coughed, spitting blood and teeth onto the road. He moaned with pain, and looked dazed.
"Nevermind, then." Bashman said, smiling. "you don't have to choose." He kicked out, catching Will in the stomach and forcing him to the ground. He raised his pistol, his finger tightening on the trigger.
"NO!" I screamed.
The gun went off.
When I heard the shot, I shut my eyes immediately. I couldn't bear to see it. When I opened them a second later, however, I turned to see Will alive and well. Bashman was standing there, clutching his bleeding hand. The mangled pistol lay about twenty feet away, it's frame shattered by a rifle bullet.
"Who the **** was that?!" One of the raiders said. He turned and looked for a shooter.
They ALL turned and looked for a shooter.
I saw my chance and I took it; I'm not ashamed of it. When they all whirled to look, I dove down and grabbed my 1911. Without thinking, I fired three rounds into the nearest raider. He fell. Apparently, some other people had the same idea. John had grabbed his carbine and emptied it into the raider nearest him. Gramps and Dad had done the same.
In a split second, the tables had turned again. The raiders were down; the only one left was Bashman, now lying there on the ground dully, since the raider that had supported him was now in a pool of his own blood.
I stood up shakily, picking up my rifle as I did so. Everyone else stood up, too, and looked around. John quickly stepped over to Will.
"Are you alright?" John asked him.
"I'll...be okay." He said, talking obviously painful for his bloodied mouth. He began to hyperventilate. I didn't blame him; he'd almost been shot.
"Where'd the shot come from?" Sarah asked looking around. As if to answer her question, Miranda and Sarge emerged from the trees to our right.
"Sorry it took so long!" Sarge said. "It took us a while to get up here without them noticing."
"That's fine." Mom said. "We're just good y'all got here."
"Hell of a shot." Gramps noted.
"If you guys don't mind..." I said, my voice ice. I didn't care that I had just killed a man; it barely registered. I was just angry. I turned to look at Bashman, this time cowering with real fire. "I'd like to deal with this problem before we celebrate."
I walked towards Bashman, holding my rifle with a white-knuckled grip. He scooted back frantically, trying to avoid me.
"Hey, man." He said, his eyes widening. "Please, don't kill me."
"I believe..." I replied, feeding rounds into the gun. "That you tried to kill us all. That you tried to shoot me and rape Sarah. Twice."
"I...I was just messin' with you, man." He said, tears forming on his face. "Just trying to scare you! I didn't mean it. I swear to god, I didn't mean it!" I stopped, and took a slow look around. Everyone was looking at me, but they weren't going to stop me. I thumbed the safety on the gun.
"NO!" Bashman screamed, sobbing. "PLEASE! I'll never come back, I swear. Please, don't kill me!"
This would normally be time where I'd say something, most likely a movie quote.
I didn't. I pulled the trigger.
The next day, all of us were sitting on the porch. After going through all of the raider's gear, we had agreed to get down to business in terms of trading. However, the only thing the raiders had really brought were guns and ammunition; so Marty, Jeff and co. were set in terms of guns. They didn't need any from us.
"So...who wants to start it off?" I asked. I was actually kinda eager; this seemed like it could be fine. "You ready Grandma?" My grandmother had volunteered to write down whatever we agreed to trade so we could keep track.
"You know what?" Marty said after a minute. "Why don't you just look through the truck and tell us anything that you want? That'll be easier." Everyone agreed to it, so Annie and Jeff went to go get the trucks. Annie was doing very well considering that she'd been shot; we'd cleaned up the wound and bandaged it. Although she said it was still painful, it didn't hinder her. Bryan was even better; he complained of a headache, but was otherwise fine.
"Heads up, guys." Mom said, pointing. Three zombies had emerged from the woods. Dad, Sarah, and I all lifted our guns.
"Wait!" Marty said. "Can I take these guys? I want to get used to this thing." He had taken a Mossberg 464 lever-action off one of the raiders. Slowly, he raised it to his shoulder; this would be the first time he'd shot it. I'd shown him how to work it last night, but he still wasn't too comfortable with it.
"Remember Marty." I advised. "You've got plenty of time. Just line up the shot, breathe out, and pull." He nodded, concentrating on the target. Slowly, he exhaled. I saw his finger tightening on the trigger.
Bam! Marty flinched heavily when the rifle fired. Still, he managed to hit the leftmost zombie in the torso.
"Not bad." I commented.
"One small problem." Marty replied. He grinned sheepishly. "I was aiming at the middle one."
"Oh..." Was all I could say as Marty lined up again. This time, his shot was a little better; he hit the one he aimed at, anyway. The zombie, a middle-aged man in a polo shirt, paused for a moment, then kept coming. Still, we weren't in any danger; it would take at least another minute for them to get close.
"Okay, I think I've got him this time." Marty said, racking the lever on the gun. He aimed carefully, bearing down on his target. His finger gripped the trigger.
Bam! The zombie reeled; it had been struck in the throat.
"Dammit!" Marty muttered. He racked his gun again.
"That ain't too bad. You were close." I said. "I think I see the problem; you're yanking the trigger. That throws you aim off. Just apply even pressure."
"Yeah, it ain't your d1ck, don't yank it." Bryan said. Marty, without looking over, gave him "the finger" and went back to aiming. I saw his finger rest on the trigger. Slowly, he exhaled.
Bam! Dead-on. The round entered the zombie's left eye, dragging tissue with it as it made its way through the skull. Brain matter and bone exploded out the back, and the zombie crumpled.
"Nice!" I said, as we all clapped in celebration. Marty grinned, and racked the lever. He seemed to have gotten the hang of it, as he dropped the second zombie with his next shot. He racked the gun, and started to aim again.
"Wait!" Bryan said after a second. Marty looked up.
"Is it okay if I get this one?" Brian asked, clutching an AR. "I'd like to give it a whirl. Marty shrugged in reply.
"Sure." He returned to his seat, and fed rounds into his rifle as Bryan took position.
"Just remember, Bryan. It's not your d1ck." He smirked. "Don't yank it every time Sarah looks at you." He laughed, and Bryan's face reddened. "Payback's a b1tch, isn't it?"
"Oh, shut up." Bryan murmured. He sighted down the barrel. This particular AR had a red-dot sight on it, so Bryan was able to aim with both eyes open. After a second, he fired.
He first shot was a complete miss. So was his second. However, he soon improved; he hit the zombie in the torso, then finally managed a headshot. We all clapped as he sat down and switched magazines.
"Nice job, guys." I said.
"Bryan, one thing I did notice." Sarge said. "You're a little too quick to look up. Stay on target; you'll be able to see if you hit him." Bryan nodded.
A moment later, Annie and Jeff pulled up in the trucks.
"We say you guys shooting." Jeff said, hopping out. "Nice work." Annie, because of her injury, was a little slower to get out. However, we soon gathered around the trucks.
"Okay, the first truck is just full of random stuff. The second one has weapons and ammo." Jeff explained. "Why don't we just start with the front one." We all agreed, and began peering inside.
Marty held up a large cardboard box. "You guys need some matches? There's ten boxes in here. Each box holds 500."
"Really?" I said. Even though we had power because of the panels, having lots of matches couldn't hurt. "What do you want for 2 boxes?"
"Um..." Marty considered. "How about ten bottles of water?"
"Done." I said. "Got that, Grandma?"
"Yeah." My grandmother replied, writing it down.
"Hey," Will said. He had hopped up in the back of the truck. "What do you want for this box of batteries?"
"What kinds are they?" I asked.
"AAs, mainly. Some AAAs and some Ds. Looks to be a lot of 'em."
"Umm..." Marty considered. "I don't know."
"How 'bout gas?" I asked. "I know y'all need lots of that. How about two gallons?"
"Sounds good to me." Marty replied.
I was about to say something, when a shiny collection of metal in the back of the truck caught my eye. I pulled it out and examined it. It was a paintball gun.
"What do you want for this?" I'd read somewhere that if you loaded marbles into them, they could kill zombies. I wanted to test out that theory.
Annie was actually the one to answer here.
"You guys got any fresh fruit?" She asked.
"No, sorry." Mom replied. "We ate the last of it earlier this week, sorry."
"Oh, that sucks." She replied. "Well, how about canned fruit. You guys have any of that? It isn't quite as good as fresh, but still."
"Yeah, we've got some." Mom said. "I think...ten cans of peaches, six cans of pears, and five of pineapple. We've also got vegetables too, if you're interested."
"How about three cans of each?" Annie asked.
"That seems fair." Mom said. Grandma nodded, scratching her pencil against the notepad. Grinning, I picked up the paintball gun and examined it. Sure enough, the gas canister was full; it was ready to go.
"Hey," Dad said. "Do y'all have anything we can make a fence out of? Chain-link or something?"
"...Nope, sorry." Marty replied. "I didn't think to pick up any of that."
"Holy crap!" Will yelled from the back of the truck. He held up what appeared to be rolled-up pieces of paper. "Why the hell do you guys have these?!"
"What are they, Will?" John asked. At the moment, he was examining a portable spotlight.
"They're GAY is what they are." Will replied, flipping the pages around. The were revealed to be posters for various things, like Twilight and Hannah Montana.
"What do you want for them?" I asked immediately. I felt everyone turn and stare out me as if I was nuts.
"Uh..." Marty said, dumbfounded. "Tellya what, Matt; you can just have those."
"Thanks!" I said eagerly. Still, everyone was staring at me. Will, absently holding the posters with one hand, scratched his head.
"Is there something you want to tell us, Matt?"
"Yeah..." Sarah said warily. "What use could we possibly have for those?" I turned to her, and beamed.
"Target practice."
This trading continued on for a little while, with us giving them things (normally food) in exchange for random stuff. John went ahead and got that spotlight. We got some books and movies, and Gramps traded his boonie hat to Marty for a few bottles of Jim Beam. We also got basic supplies like blankets, socks, and more. Once we'd finished with the first truck, we went over everything we had so far.
"So, are we all in agreement with the trades we've done?" Jeff asked. We all were. "Good, let's move on back to the second."
"Yeah, I'm basically gonna check out on this one." Marty said, chuckling. "I don't know much about this." Nevertheless, he joined us in looking through the truck. It was filled with boxes of ammo. In addition, there were hand weapons like machetes and baseball bats.
"How much you want for these?" Sarge asked, pointing to a box of .410 Defense shells.
"Meh, you can have them." Jeff shrugged. "We don't have any use for them."
"Hey," I said. "Do you guys have enough ammo for your guns?" In addition to the lever-action and AR that Bryan and Marty used, they both carried 9mms picked off of the raiders. Annie now had a Winchester shotgun, and Jeff had found a Glock 21 .45ACP.
"Yeah, I think we're good." Jeff said. " We've got several hundred 9 mils and probably five hundred shotgun shells. Also, we've got plenty of rounds for my .45 and Marty's .30-30. The rest is open to sale."
"How many 20 gauge shells do you have?" Grandma asked, peering inside.
"Right around sixty." Jeff replied after thinking for a second.
"What do you want for them?" She asked.
"Got any more gas?" We did. We agreed to give them five more gallons (which we'd drained from the raider's car.)
"Y'know, Grandma." I said after a minute. "I've been wondering. Why are you still using your double-barrel? Why not use something with more firepower? We've certainly found better guns."
"It's just what I've gotten used to, Matt." She explained. "Keep in mind; you're still using a lever-action even though we've got assault rifles." Well, AR-15s weren't technically "assault rifles" but I knew what she meant.
"Fair enough." I replied, and went back to scouring the truck.
"Hey, do you guys have hand weapons?" Jeff asked. "I didn't really see any,"
"Well..." I thought about it. "Dad has a hammer, like yours. Grandma has a hatchet; Will has a machete, and we found a baseball bat. But that's about it."
"Want some melee weapons, then? We found a hardware store that hadn't been completely looted. We've got a lot of hammers, knives, and more."
"Sure, why not?" I said. So, we made sure that each of us was properly outfitted with a hand weapon (I myself took a large bowie knife and a screwdriver, for good measure.) In exchange, we gave them some books that we didn't need, and more water. Since the well was still just about full, this was a pretty good deal on our part.
After a few more basic trades (like Gramps getting a box of .44s,) we were pretty much done. I felt pretty good. Both of us were walking away with what we needed; it was basically a win-win. However, after that, Marty and Jeff decided it was time for them to be on their way. So, we helped load the supplies onto the truck, then gathered to say our goodbyes.
"It was good meeting you guys." Marty said, shaking all of our hands.
"Well, you're welcome back any time." Dad said.
"Sorry we didn't have any yogurt for you, Jeff." I said, smirking.
"Aw, shaddup." He said jokingly, also moving to shake our hands. "You wouldn't believe how tired I got of yogurt while filming."
"Well, to be fair." Sarah said. "It doesn't look like you'll get much chance to eat it again."
"Yeah, I guess." He shrugged. "That's one thing I'm not going to miss." With that, he went to go get in the truck.
"Nice meeting you guys." Bryan said, standing back and attempting to look cool. Admittedly, it was difficult with his ear injury.
"You should be proud, man." Sarge said. "You took a good hit."
"Thanks," He said. I saw his eyes flick to Sarah. "Um..."
" Bye, Bryan." Sarah said, grinning. "Loosen up, man. You're making it too obvious."
"Making what..." He said. Then, he threw up his hands. "Aw, screw it!" He laughed, and started to get in the back truck.
"Bye guys!" Annie said, waving as she slowly got in the car.
"Make sure you take care of that wound." Miranda advised. "I know you're tough, but still, be careful." (Apparently, Miranda had a little medic training as well.)
"Will do." Annie replied, waving one last time as she close the door on the truck. Marty then got in, and started it up.
"See y'all later." He said as they pulled out of the driveway. We all waved, glad we'd met another good group of survivors. Then, I had to laugh as Marty ran over a zombie that was walking down the road. One less for us to deal with.
The zombie looked around, struggling furiously. In life, it had been a woman in hid mid-forties; now, it was simply a blood-soaked corpse. It's dark hair was a mess, clogged with leaves and assorted garbage. Its eyes, once a brilliant green but now dulled, were locked onto us, with animal rage and huger behind them. Black bile oozed from a quartet of bullet holes in its stomach. Still, no matter what it tried, it could not free itself from the rope.
"Alright," I said, checking the CO2 to make sure the paintball gun was full. "Let's see what happens."
It was mid-afternoon, around three o'clock. Will, Sarge, Sarah, and myself were in the backyard, watching the zombie struggle where we'd tied it to a tree. Catching it had been a relatively simple matter; Will had distracted it while Dad and I crept up behind it. We'd grabbed it, and wrapped duct tape around its mouth so it couldn't bite. Then, we had no trouble tying it to a tree so I could test out the paintball gun. I'd scrounged up some marbles from my room, and was eager to try it.
"Y'all ready?" I asked, looking around.
"Go for it, man." Sarge said. "Wanna place bets? Five bucks says it works." Even though money was of no use now, it was still fun to bet with.
"You're on." Will replied. "I've got five that says it doesn't."
"You're BOTH wrong." Sarah replied, laughing. "It'll work, but it will take more than one shot. I'll bet that it takes three shots." Their bets seemed to be settled, so I backed up to fifteen yards, and lined up the sight.
"Here goes nothin'" I said, then squeezed the trigger. I saw the marble exit the barrel with an audible clang accompanying it. It struck the zombie dead in the middle of the forehead. Her head snapped back, banging against the tree behind it. However, she quickly returned to snarling at us; her head was bruised and bloodies, but it hadn't cracked the skull.
"Damn!" Sarge muttered. He reached into his pocket to find money. In the meantime, I fired twice more into the exact same spot. Both times, the zombie reared, but still, the marbles failed to pierce the head.
"Crap." Sarah said, handing five dollars to Will. Sarge did the same.
"Told you!" Will said happily.
"Shoot her in the eye!" A shout came from behind us. I turned, to see John and Gramps walking towards us. Gramps pointed to his eye. "That'll work. Trust me." I shrugged.
"Okay." I lined up another shot, then squeezed the trigger. The marble rocketed out, striking exactly where I was aiming; the left eye. The eye turned to mush as the marble plowed through it. (Strangely, none of us were the least bit disgusted. I guess we'd just gotten used to it.) But, sure enough, the zombie stopped thrashing and sagged against the rope. Sarge turned and plucked the money out of Will's hand.
"Thank you." He said curtly, then began to laugh.
"Y'know..." John said. "I just though about something. You guys, including my son, were betting on whether or not something would die." He smirked. "We may need a psychiatrist."
"Aww, c'mon John." I replied. "It was already dead anyway."
"I know." He said. "Just kidding."
"How'd you know the shooting him in the eye would work, Gramps?" Will asked. (As a note, it had become common practice for all of us to call him "Gramps.")
"Oh, I used one of those as a crowd control device in 'Nam." He explained. "Only eye-shot were lethal."
"Really?" Will asked incredulously.
"Of course not!" Gramps said, dissolving into laughter. "You really think I'd use something like that?!" Will shook his head, grinning.
"Hey, you said you were a sniper, right?" I asked, curious.
"Yessir, I was." He replied. Before the outbreak, I'd never heard him talk in detail about the war. So it seemed like a good time to ask.
"Did you know Carlos Hathcock?"
"Who?" Sarah asked.
"Famous sniper." Gramps explained. "Heh, no, I was there after he went home. From what I hear, that boy could shoot." He went on. "Although, I did know Chuck Mawhinney; he was the only Marine with more kills than Hathcock. Great guy; ol' country boy like me." He laughed again. "All of 'em were. There were no tougher guys anywhere in the world."
"Of course." Sarge said, smiling. "They were Marines."
"Semper Fi." Gramps replied. I could see the camaraderie between them; an old Marine and a new Marine.
“How many kills did you have anyway?” I asked after a minute.
“Forty-three confirmed.” Gramps replied instantly. “Although, it was a lot harder to confirm them. Sure, they say forty-three, but I really got ninety-six of them. Trust me; I know.”
“Wow...” I breathed. John, standing next to Gramps, nodded in approval; although he didn’t have the bond that the two Marines did, he was a cop, so there was still something.
“Hey, Matt.” John said after a minute. “I’ve been thinking; maybe we should put a fence up around here.” He waved his hand to indicate the yard. “That way we can walk around relatively safely. At least keep the zombies out long enough for us to shoot 'em."
"Hmm..." I said as we began to walk back to the house. "That's a pretty good idea. One problem, though: where can we find the fencing at?"
"That hardware store in town might have one." Sarah offered. "It's probably been looted, but that may be left behind."
"Good point." I said. "Also, while we're there, we could check around for food and stuff." I thought for a minute. "We could probably go tomorrow morning. I'd rather not do it tonight."
"That's what she said." Will muttered.
"Shaddup, Will." I said curtly. "Anyway, who wants to go? I will, of course."
"I'm in." John said immediately. It was good to see him with eagerness and a goal; it was a sign that he'd be okay.
"I'll go." Sarah said. "Any chance to kill some zombies is good for me." She smiled.
"Miranda and I can finish it out." Sarge said. "If that's okay with y'all."
"Y'know, guys..." I said after a minute. "I've been thinking. Some of us have been out pretty much every time. But Grandma and Mom have never been out. Is it okay with y'all if I see if they want to first?"
"Oh, sure. Sorry." Sarah said quickly.
"Yeah, good idea Matt." Gramps added.
"Thanks." I replied. "Let's see. So, with Grandma and Mom...John, I'd like you to go. Sarge, you want to?"
"I already said I did." He said, smirking.
"Fair enough." I chuckled. So, we went inside and began making plans for the mission.
At around 11:00 that night, I got off watch. I crept through the house, trying not to wake anybody up. Slowly, I made my way into the bedroom, be careful not to make noise. But, I didn't have to worry about it. Sarah was waiting for me.
She was stretched out on the bed, the light from the lamp shining on her face. I had a brief fantasy that she was naked; but no, she was fully clothed. She smiled as I entered.
"Hi, Matt. See anything on watch?"
"Nope." I replied, sitting down next to her. I bent and kissed her. She replied in kind.
"Listen, Sarah." I said a moment later. "Can we talk for a minute?" She sat up, and turned towards me.
"Sure. What's wrong?" She asked, showing concern.
"Oh, nothing's wrong." I replied. "Nothing at all. I just...wanted to say how much I've liked the past week. With us being together."
"Oh, I have too!" She said, giggling and hugging me.
"It's just weird." I said. "It seems like before zombies came around, I had no shot with you."
"Well, if you'd just talked to me more." She said, playfully punching me on the arm. "Am I really that hard to talk to?"
"I dunno. Ask Bryan." I said, smirking. We both laughed. "No seriously, you aren't. It just that...you should be. You know what I mean?"
"Yeah, I do." She looked me dead in the eye. "I'm a pretty, popular girl. Therefore, I'm supposed to be snobby or something, aren't I? Sorry, Matt, that ain't my thing. Last time I checked, the dead are walking; I don't think too many people care how popular I am."
"Heh, I guess so." I replied. She leaned up against me, and was just sat there.
"Well, I guess now's as good a time as any." She said brightly after a moment.
"For what?" I asked dumbly.
"I'm glad y'all didn't see these; it was hard getting them from Marty." She reached under the bed, and pulled out something. It looked like a box. She handed it to me, and I looked down. My jaw dropped.
"I love you." I said bluntly.
It was a box of condoms.
It was awesome.
|
EastCoaster9000 |
Latest page update: made by EastCoaster9000
, Mar 3 2011, 5:23 PM EST
(about this update
About This Update
Edited by EastCoaster9000
1 word added 1 word deleted view changes - complete history) |
|
Keyword tags:
None
More Info: links to this page
|
There are no threads for this page.
Be the first to start a new thread.
