Learning To Live (Zombie Overload Series) (25 page)

I
look at all three of the guys, desperately hoping at least one will
come up with a good plan. But they just stare right back at me and I
lose hope of getting any solutions from them.

Ok, Canada.
Think. Think. Think...I can't think of shit! Ok. Well, wait. What
about this...

"What
about this, guys? It's not perfect and it sucks, but it's all I've
got. We have Dustin get out and get closer, but stay hidden, just in
case. And then you two and I lead the zombies away while Dustin goes
up and gets Dad out and somewhere safe. Then we can pick them up."

I
watch them and wait for their reactions. They all look at each other
and shrug.

"Sounds
like a plan to me," Jake says.

"Yup.
Better than what we came up with, which is nothing," Will says.

"You
got it," Dustin says.

"Are
you sure about this, Dustin? I mean, out of all of us, you have the
most dangerous part," I tell him.

"I
only have one worry. What if your
dad
tries to kill me?"
Dustin asks me.

"I'll
tell him when I call and let him know we're here."

Dustin
nods. "Then let's get it done."

I
call Dad and he answers, sounding no different than any other day I
had called him pre-zombie. Calm, relaxed, just another conversation
full of bullshitting.
So I guess Kally
isn't
the only one
who can do that.

I
tell him our plan and warn him about Dustin. "he'll look awful
nasty, "―Dustin gives me a playfully offended look―"and
he'll stink like you wouldn't believe. Plus, he'll look like a
zombie. So don't kill him."

"How
will I know the difference?" Dad asks me with a hint of
amusement in his voice.

"If
you see a zombie, clomping on big-ass feet up the stairs, screaming
"Don't Shoot! Don't Shoot!" then it's probably him. If it
were me, I'd throw a few heavy things at him just to be sure,
though."

Dustin
sucks in a breath and gives me a "What the hell, woman!"
look. I just grin at him.

Dad
and I hang up and Dustin gets out of the truck. We give him a few
minutes to hide and then start up the hill. Dad's shop―mechanic
shop/gas station, which is the sole cause of grenades
not
being an option, and even gunfire being a big risk―is on the
far corner across the intersection from where we are. The
intersection is a four-way but the only option we really have is to
take the one that goes to the left. The other two options are backed
up with zombies as far as the eye can see. Even the way we
can
go is going to be difficult, but it's the best-and really the
only
option we have.

I
ask the guys if they're ready and they tell me they are, as if they
have a choice. So I stomp on the gas and we push our way toward the
intersection. I manage to break through the crowd, but have to drive
up on the sidewalk to make the turn as the mob in the road of the
intersection itself is thick.

I
drive a little ways away from the last zombie and then stop. Will and
Jake get on top of the truck and start calling them over. Slowly,
most of them turn and come for us. But the ones behind the
intersection, past Dad's place, don't seem to hear the dinner bell.

There's
nothing I can do. I can't wait any longer or we will be surrounded
and stuck. Putting the truck in gear, I creep forward, Jake and Will
still making as much noise with taunts, threats, and name-calling as
they can.

Driving
a couple miles outside of town, I pull into the driveway of a fairly
large cemetery which has, not only the two front exits, but a hidden
one in the back.
I know, 'cuz Will and I made out here once when
down visiting and never had any alone time.
Just
kissing.
Nothing more.
Honest!

"What
in the name of
God
are you doing? This is a frikken cemetery!"
Will screeches at me.
No! Really? How could I have been
so
stupid! A cemetery...who woulda thought!

Jake
is also looking through the hatch opening at me as if I've lost my
mind, as well. I shake my head in sadness and pity.
It's so hard
to be the brilliant one at all times.

"Yes,
Honey. A
cemetery
. An
empty
cemetery. With a back exit
and a gate." I give them both pointed looks, hoping they need no
further explanation.
Come on, boys, make Mama proud.

"You're
freaking crazy!" Jake shouts at me,
as if I didn't already
know that!

"No.
No, she's not," Will says slowly. "She's freaking
brilliant!"
Yep. I really am!

Will
ejects his head from the hatch and Jake follows, still wearing a
confused and exasperated expression. I hear Will on top screaming
with renewed vigor. Jake joins in but I can still hear the hesitation
in his voice. I can't believe he hasn't figured it out yet. I gave
enough details a child could have understood.

Slowly
making my way up the left road that travels around the graves in a
circle, I watch as the zombies follow us inside. When we reach the
back exit, Will jumps out and closes the gate. A chain with a padlock
is looped around the post which he pulls off and locks the gate. We
all get out, weapons ready in case any undead are out here with us in
the dark. There are plenty of places for them to hide with all the
tall uncut weeds and trees in this back area. The road is only a dirt
path made by the cemetery grounds keeper's truck and probably other
locals who know about it and need some alone time, too.

Will
helps me to the back of the truck and I sit on the tailgate as we
watch the zombies still coming in the entrance. I watch the ones
trying desperately to get to us. The gate is a big one-thick, and
hard to get open even without being locked, but I'm sure it's not
going to take the entire horde to get it down once a good many of
them are pushing on it.

I
look at the undead.
Really
look at them, and I'm startled to
see people I once knew. People who would come into the shop and sit
around, drinking coffee, and trading gossip. People I had sat around
and bullshitted with. I see kids I knew and had waited on, ringing up
their candy and soda. They are transformed from the shy and quiet
kids to snarling, insane-looking beasts. My eyes burn from the need
to cry for them, for what they used to be, and what they have become.
The pain in my chest spreads and the ache is sharp.
Such a
freakin' waste!

I
turn away from them and focus on the zombies as a whole-refusing to
see the individuals I once knew. There's nothing I can do about it.
This is nothing like seeing a homeless person or a starving child.
Those
I would help if I could. These? I just can't.

When
the majority of them are inside, we decide it's time to go. Now even
if they happen to leave by way of the entrance, it's still going to
give us plenty of a head start.

Will
helps me get to the driver's side since that's the only thing I can
really do with one foot. If someone should need help outside the
truck, it won't do them any good for me to hop to their rescue. After
the guys are in, I drive us out of the mess at the back of the
cemetery and head back toward Dad's.

The
zombies that had stayed behind are still too many. I stop a few
blocks away from the shop and watch them, the frustration growing.

"Shit!
Now what?" I ask the guys.

They
remain silent as their minds are racing, as is mine, to come up with
a solution. There is no way we can lead them away like we did the
others. As long as it takes them to move, the others would already be
back.

"Alright,
let's lead them a few blocks away from the station, and then blow
them up," Will suggests.

Hell,
why not?
It's not as if we have a whole lot of options. We
discuss the details of which way, how far, and who is doing what.
Then I put the truck in gear and start forward. At the intersection,
Will and Jake call out to them again and I turn left on the road that
leads to the back of the shop. Slowly, so slowly it's painful, the
undead follow. I'm sure they're not
all
following us, but
enough of a them are to reduce the numbers at the shop.

Two
blocks past the shop, Jake tells me to go one more and then stop.
When I do, Will comes inside and grabs the grenades, machine guns,
and sniper-rifle. I wasn't told to go up on the roof and help, but
damned if I'm going to just sit and watch. So I wiggle, flop, and
drop my way into the backseat and then climb to the roof, all
one-footed.

When
I make it up, I grab the sniper-rifle and take aim on my first
victim. The guys initially protest me being up here, but I ignore
them and they give up. They throw the grenades and I shoot the ones
further back in the group.

Everything
is going great. We're shooting and exploding and they keep coming and
falling, just as planned-until I notice movement on the roof of a
house across an empty lot to the side of us and a block over . In
shock, I freeze for a minute, staring at the figure waving its arms.

Recovering,
I swing the rifle and look through the scope. It's a man who looks to
be in his thirties. Behind him I see a woman holding a baby and two
smaller children, a boy and a girl, standing on each side of her. The
kids both have their hands pressed over their ears, most likely from
the noise of the grenades.

The
girl has long, straight blond hair and is wearing a pair of jeans and
a pink t-shirt. She looks to be anywhere from twelve to fourteen
years of age. Hard to tell nowadays.

The
boy has short-cut blond hair, also wearing jeans and a t-shirt, but
his shirt is bright yellow and just going by the color I'm positive
the picture has a certain popular cartoon sponge on the back of it.
He looks to be about eight years old, give or take a year.

The
woman is wearing a flower-print dress that reaches to her ankles with
a long-sleeved light blue turtle-neck top underneath. She has blond
hair which is pulled back in a ponytail, the trademark of a woman
with long hair and a baby that likes to pull that hair.

The
baby is wrapped in at least one blanket. A thick twin-size blanket,
definitely not the thin crib blankets. The only way I can tell it's a
baby is the bottle the mother is holding in the feeding position at
one end of the bundle. So unless it's a baby animal, I think it's
safe to assume it really is a baby.

The
man is wearing jeans and a black t-shirt, has dark brown curly hair
to his shoulders, and is wearing glasses. He's still desperately
waving, so I wave back, letting him know I see him, but until we get
this mess cleared, we can't do anything to help them. I notice more
movement at the base of the house. Swinging the rifle down, I see a
small group of about twenty zombies. Some have turned and are staring
in our direction, a few have started over, but the rest are intent on
trying to get inside.

I
get Will's attention and he slides across the roof to my side. I
explain and he looks through the scope. He nods to me and goes back
to let Jake know. I see Jake's head swing to the house and then he
and Will exchange a few words and go back to killing zombies. I lift
the rifle and start doing the same.

Several
reloads and explosions later, the zombies are greatly reduced, and I
swing the rifle in the direction of the undead at the house. I shoot
about half of them, and then my supply of ammo for the rifle is gone.
Completely
gone.

Going
back inside the truck, I get behind the wheel and wait for the men to
let me know when I can go. Finally, Will jumps inside and tells me
there are only a dozen or so left and we should be ok now. Jake drops
inside and I drive around the block, opposite of the location where
the house is-
I'm positive those poor people think we've abandoned
them
-and come up to the street my dad's shop is on.

There
are still a few outside, but Will and Jake get out of the truck and
are able to get close enough to them to ensure no stray bullets hit
the gas tanks, and then they disappear inside the building. When they
clear the outside of the doorway, I pull the truck up next to the
door. I wish I could get closer but this isn't a van and doesn't have
sliding doors, so I have to leave room for the guys to be able to get
inside. I hear more shots being fired from within and I pray it's not
packed with the undead or, if so, that the guys can handle them.

I
watch the neighborhood and see undead coming this way in ones and
twos, sometimes a few more. I can't let them group up again and
prevent the guys from getting out safe, so I lower the window and sit
on the ledge, shooting as soon as they come into range.

Don't
think I've forgotten what happened last time when one of the rotters
surprised me. And don't think that I think I'll ever be that lucky
again and get a zombie with no teeth gnawing on me. I'm watching my
back. When I have to reload, I get back inside and roll my window up.

Some
get too damn close because I can't shoot them until they get past the
tanks when they come from that direction. When that starts happening,
I stay inside and shoot through the half open window as they press
against it, blood and gore covering my window.