Survive (13 page)

“What? How?” Douglas looked relieved at the news of his sister and nephews.

“Sara’s brother, Jose, picked them up on the way here. He picked up a bunch of survivors. They got lucky.”

“Oh thank God.” Douglas sat down on the ground and leaned against the door of the shack. He held his head in his hands. “I thought they were dead. I really did.”

John sat down next to Douglas, not saying a word. They sat that way for several minutes. Douglas broke the silence. “Jose, huh? How’d he get a name like that?”

“Eh, it’s a long story. But the short version is his parents were on vacation in Mexico when he was conceived, so they named him after a guy down there that gave them a great deal on some pot.”

Douglas just looked at John for a moment. “Seriously?”

“Yeah, but don’t tell him that. They don’t want him to know. And Sara doesn’t like hearing the story either. Supposedly, if he’d been born a girl, his name would have been Mary Jane.”

They both chuckled at that.

“So, have you heard anything?” John asked.

“Yeah, a few things. I was going to go get some sleep and then put all this together into some kind of order tomorrow. I’ve heard from a few groups of survivors. Some are in government shelters, or bunkers. A few are in isolated farms. I talked to one family hiding in a sewer.”

“Anything from the government?”

“Yeah, the Lieutenant Governor and some National Guard troops are holed up in a bunker in Montpelier, but they aren’t saying much. And nothing from the Feds, but I did hear some rumors that they are hiding out under Cheyenne mountain.”

John thought for a minute. He seemed to come to some sort of decision and pulled a piece of paper from his pocket. He unfolded it and handed it to Douglas.

“I want you to do me a favor. Check this frequency. If you hear anything on it, anything at all, let me know. Get a hold of me on the walkie talkie right away.”

Douglas took the paper and nodded. He stood up, offering his hand to John.

“I’m going to go find my sister then turn in.”

“Thanks, Doug. Reminds me of when we were kids.”

“Yeah, but without the undead monsters.”

Douglas walked off into the night. John looked into the shed on his way past and noted several push pins placed all over the map on the wall. He nodded to himself and walked toward the cabin.

* * *

“Oh man, you should have seen it! I whipped my sword out and sliced right through its neck! And then the second one came at me, and I yelled for Tina to throw me the flamethrower. Man it was sick!” Jose danced back and forth in the living room waving his sword. John ducked as he came through the door, barely avoiding a free haircut. Jose looked abashed, but continued.

“So she threw it to me. I thought the tape would hold the hose together, but when I turned it on, it kinda sprayed everywhere.” He lowered his eyes to the floor as Tina started fuming silently, glaring at him.

“But after we put her hair out, it was fine! So then, we finished getting the gas and got back into the truck...”

John raised his hand. “Wait, did you just say you were using a flamethrower, while pumping gas?”

Jose nodded his head and grinned. “Yeah, it was sick!”

John motioned for Jose to continue with his story.

“But then we noticed a huge pack of them coming at us. I whipped out of the parking lot and got on the highway. I had to run down a couple in the way, but that door works pretty well. Anyway, that’s when Eddie got sick. So I stopped the truck and told him to get out.”

John traded a glance with Sara. Her eyes were red, but she grinned a little at Jose’s colorful tale and enthusiasm. Fish and Princess lay next to each other on the floor in front of her.

“I told him he could ride in the back until he changed, but then I’d have to kill him. He said he’d be okay, but if he changed, he wanted me to take him somewhere nice. Anyway, he got all sick and stuff in the back of the truck. Finally I pulled over again. Mom said I couldn’t bring him with us cause it was too dangerous.”

Dierdre nodded, sipping a cup of hot tea.
Good thing we have a wood cook stove
, John thought to himself, mentally planning for the days ahead.

“So I brought his head. He can’t hurt anyone.”

“Well, still, we can’t keep him...it.” John said, coming out of his reverie.

“Oh yeah, I know. I’ll tell him he’s got to go in the morning. He’s cool with it, I’m sure.”

Sara and Tina both rolled their eyes at the same time. John just shook his head.

They unrolled sleeping bags and extra blankets on the floor. Sara insisted her mother take the bed, at least for the night. John agreed, and together they convinced Dierdre. Finally, John, Sara, Tina, and Jose, fell asleep on the living room floor, adding their snores to those of Princess and Fish.

* * *

John awoke to the sound of distant gunfire. He was already running out the door, rifle in one hand, radio in the other, when the others began to wake up. As he ran down the path to the driveway, his radio crackled to life.

“Zeds at the barricade. Big group, at least twenty, maybe thirty,” Truck said, calmly. “I could use a hand up here.”

“On my way. Just hang on.”

Roger and Morgan came running up the driveway, heading in the same direction. Both had their rifles held at the ready. A few of the newcomers poked their heads out of June’s house, but John waved them all back as he ran past.

“Stay inside, folks. You’re safe here.”
I hope
, he thought to himself.

They reached the barricade a few minutes later. Truck was firing slowly but accurately at targets down below. He had a big Maglite flashlight aimed at the crowd. The light clearly showed at least two dozen Zeds in various states of decomposition. Some were the faster, fresher, newer kind, jumping and climbing over the slower ones. Truck seemed to be aiming at those first. Already four Zeds lay unmoving on the road.

We need to get some lights out here
, John thought, as he aimed for one of the fast Zeds. Its head exploded like a ripe melon. John smiled a little before moving on to the next one.

With the help of Morgan and Roger, they finally finished off the last Zed. Truck reloaded, slamming a magazine into his AR 15. He pulled the charging handle back, then released it to slam home.

“We need some lights out here,” he said.

John nodded. “I know. We’ll work on it tomorrow. Go get some sleep, I’ll take over until morning.”

“Nah, I’m good. You have bigger fish to fry.”

John shrugged and walked back to the driveway with the others. Candles were on inside the houses. The smell of fresh coffee wafted through the air as they walked up the driveway. Sara and Dierdre were standing under the carport in front of a gas camping stove. Pots of coffee were boiling on the stove. John and the others walked over to them, smiling. Dierdre made each of them take a steaming cup of coffee and sit at the table. Jose came running over, wearing nothing but a pair of faded blue jeans. He had his sword and shotgun crisscrossed over his back, and his headband firmly in place. He ran up to John, barefoot and full of energy.

“Where are they? I can take ‘em!” he shouted.

Dierdre shook her head and covered her eyes at the sight of her son. Sara smirked and handed the teen a cup of coffee.

“You’re late. What would Chuck Norris say?”

Jose looked at Sara and deadpanned, “Probably something like brains...brains!” He moaned.

They all laughed then.
There could be worse ways to start the day
, John thought.

* * *

The morning passed quickly. Sara and Dierdre organized a big welcoming breakfast for everyone. The mother and daughter duo worked well together, and everyone enjoyed the last of the fresh eggs, mixed with powdered, along with pancakes, bacon, toast, and surprisingly good danishes they’d found mixed in with the other food from the warehouse. John and Sara also took some time to meet the newcomers, assessing their strengths and any supplies they’d brought with them. Both supplies and usable skills were in short supply among the newcomers, though.

John also relayed the news of their arrival to the Kensingtons and filled them in on the morning’s attack. He learned there had been a smaller attack at the other barricade, but the Kensingtons had repelled the Zeds by stabbing them in the head with spikes affixed to long poles, thus conserving ammunition. John vowed to look into this method in the future.

Jack Kensington also offered to take a couple of the newcomers if they agreed to earn their keep. The two Jamaican farmhands readily agreed and set off on foot.

Patrick Mason was organizing the building of the fence. John found him writing down measurements on an old notepad.

“We’ve got plenty of fence to go around all of the houses including the old hunting shack. They even brought back a good solid gate.” Patrick said, continuing to jot down notes.

“That’s great, but what about bracing them? We saw the Zeds knock down a fence like this through sheer numbers.”

“Well, we could cut some good sized logs, about fourteen feet long, sink them into the ground as braces every twelve feet or so. Nothing is going to knock that down.”

“Sounds good to me. What do we need to make that happen?” John asked.

“Manpower. We’ve got saws, digging equipment, and plenty of material. We just need more people or this is going take a long time.”

“I know. And I think that, even with the new people Sara’s brother brought in, we have enough supplies to sustain everyone for a few months. We could take a few more people, if we found them.”

“John, we really need more hands out here. Someone has to watch the barricade all the time. That limits how many people can work on the fence. Kurt is down for the count for a while. You have Doug working the radio.”

John looked over towards the radio shack. “Yeah, but that may be the key to getting more people. If he can find any survivors within driving distance, we can go get them with the dump truck.”

Patrick nodded. “That’s a right good idea. Well, you get to it. I’m going to get this started.”

* * *

John was sitting at a picnic table under the carport looking at the report Douglas had written for him when Jose walked up carrying a big piece of plastic. He sat down across from John and laid the plastic on the table between them. Jose was still wearing his crossed sword and shotgun ensemble, though he now wore combat boots and a white tank top as well as the strategically torn blue jeans. John laid the report down and looked at the plastic.

“Looks like plastic,” John said, looking back up at Jose.

“It is plastic.”

“Why am I looking at plastic?”

“Because, it’s going to save your life, dude.”

“What are you talking about?” John looked skeptically at Jose.

Jose turned the plastic around and pointed at a scuffed spot on it. John looked closer and saw a crescent row of gouges in the ¼ inch thick piece of rough material.

“Is that a bite mark?”

Jose grinned like a madman. “Yes! It’s a zombie...I mean a Zed bite.”

John looked at Jose for a moment, expectantly. “Well, go on.”

“On our way here we saw a flashlight on top of a building. It was signaling S.O.S. In Morse code. I recognized it from the History Channel, right? So we stopped. It was a factory that made plastic panels for something, I don’t know what. It was a woman on the roof, a survivor. And while we were getting her down, a Zed came at us. I picked one of these panels up and shoved it at the Zed. It bit it but couldn’t get through. So after I stabbed it through the eye with my katana, I heard...I mean I got an idea. I grabbed a bunch of the plastic sheets and threw them in the back of my truck.”

John picked up the plastic and flipped it over. The other side showed a similar set of bite marks. They hadn’t come anywhere close to penetrating, though.

“So, what are you suggesting?”

“Armor, dude!” Jose sat back with a satisfied grin.

Jose flipped the plastic back onto the table and raised his eyebrows. “What?”

“Armor! We make armor out of the plastic.”

“What are you talking about? Did you sleep on your brain last night?”

“No, seriously, they can’t bite through it. You’d be totally safe,” Jose said defensively.

“How would you make armor out of plastic?” John asked, trying not to offend Jose.

“Heat it up, bend it into whatever shape you need, then strap it on with duct tape!”

John sat for a minute, trying to decide what to say to his young brother-in-law.

“Alright, let’s say for a minute that we make this armor. What do we do with it?”

“Duh. Kill Zeds.” Jose scratched his head.

“Maybe...maybe we can make some kind of shield or something. I don’t see how we could make armor out of plastic and duct tape.”

Jose frowned. “That might work too, but it’s supposed to be armor. You’d be totally safe from their bites.”