Mad Swine (Book 2): Dead Winter (23 page)

It was another three hours before everyone’s gear was pared down to Brian’s and Kat’s satisfaction. Another half-hour passed while Sam passed out the allotment of rations to each member of the away team. The hour after that was spent on splitting up teams under the five team leaders and giving a quick refresher on movement formations. I’d almost forgotten how frustrating it could be working out logistics and training with a large group.

Brian and Kat ran us through a few quick drills focused on defending from the flanks as well as front and rear with our more vulnerable companions at our center. By the fifth run through, Brian was satisfied and gave me a thumb up indicating he felt like we were finally ready to move.

As we gathered at the front gate, the community was alive with excitement and sadness. I made my rounds and gave a few words of encouragement to those who would remain at Randall Oaks. I promised them that we’d return for them in the spring, sooner if possible. I shook their hands and embraced each one of them. Sam and Kat embraced me together; Sam was crying but Kat managed to keep her composure. All around us friends and neighbors said their farewells.

It took six men to push the UPS truck forward far enough for us to fit through the battered gate and step out onto Route 20. The team leaders exited first to assess our situation. The drop in temperature had melted away much of the snow that covered the roadway, although the thicker drifts against our walls were minimally affected.

Fanning out into the street, we each assessed the area, calling out the threats. There were not as many crazies as I expected, but their number was still substantial.

“Use your firearms only if necessary. Let’s keep this as quiet as possible,” I said. I kept my eyes on the three creatures that slowly made their way toward me.

“I’ve got two here,” Brian said.

Lara chimed in. “Three here.”

“Two on me,” Chandra shared.

“I win,” Justin said. “I have four.”

“Don’t let them bunch up,” I said and with that I started moving toward my enemy.

In a one-on-one situation, most any crazy could easily be defeated if you kept your head about you and you had a weapon that could penetrate the skull. However, in groups they were extremely dangerous. Before the three on my side could form up, I ran to the closest one, a middle aged man with dirty blonde hair. One cheek, his left, hung down in a flap of skin and the eye above it had been punctured. The smell of him was rancid this close. I’d forgotten how badly they stunk.

When I was about two feet away, I struck my first blow, the head of the splitting maul connecting with the dirty man’s right temple. The force of the blow vibrated into my hands and up into my forearms and I almost lost grip on my weapon. Fortunately, the axe head did not stick when I pulled back. With my weapon retracted from the thing’s head, its body fell limply at my feet.

Barely breaking stride, I launched my assault on the next assailant. The old man was struggling forward on one leg, the other dragging severely behind and bent at an odd angle. His khaki pants were caked with mud and dried blood. His torso was fully exposed; whatever shirt he’d worn had long since been torn away. I quickly noted three pock marks on his chest which I assumed had been bullet holes before his flesh healed.

I sidestepped the old man at the last moment and used the axe to knock his good leg out from under him. He face-planted onto the blacktop with a satisfying smacking sound, his blood a pool of black on the road.

Leaving the old man on the ground, having bought myself some time, I engaged soccer mom who extended her arms out toward me, as if wanting to embrace me. I jabbed at her with the splitting maul, the heavy head smacking her in the face, splitting her nose and dislodging teeth and knocking her backward. She tottered for a moment like a pudgy child learning to walk before finally losing her balance and falling onto her backside. Before she could attempt to regain her feet, I swung the splitting maul in a wide arc with as much force as I could muster. The head of the axe struck the side of her neck exactly where I aimed. With almost no resistance, the edged weapon decapitated her. Her head fell beside her body; her arms still twitched for a moment before finally falling still beside her. A second later, her body fell slack and made a sickening smacking sound against the surface of the road.

Fighting back the urge to vomit, I bent forward slightly and turned away from the beheaded corpse. From the corner of my eye, I saw that the old man had gotten to his knees. Acting quickly, putting aside the sight of the woman’s head falling, I swung my weapon as I pivoted on my right foot. Again, my aim was keen, and the flat end of the axe head struck the old man squarely in his temple. His body pitched to the side violently with the force of my blow and he fell to the ground. For a moment I watched as his body jerked against the ground. The blow must have damaged his spine where it connected at the base of the skull.

Unable to command movement from his limbs, the old man continued to jerk along the blacktop. His head lay perpendicular to his body giving him a horror-movie look. His lower jaw seemed normal enough, but his upper jaw was turned sideways and the skin at the corner of his mouth was torn open.

“Jesus Christ,” Brian said beside me.

The sound of his voice startled me and I let out a small sound of surprise. Brian didn’t seem to notice. His attention was focused on the old man that strangely resembled the creature from the movie
Pumpkinhead
.

After what seemed like a very long time, Brian tore his eyes away from the spectacle and said, “Kill the damn thing.” He started to walk away and then stopped after a few steps. Pointing at the old man, he said, “That right there is going to give me nightmares, dude.”

After ending the thing’s suffering by smashing what was left of its skull with the splitting maul, I looked around to assess our situation. All of the team leaders had taken out the creatures in their sections without incident. We had managed to kill thirteen in less than two minutes without firearms. Even I had to admit that was quite impressive and I immediately felt much better about our odds of surviving this journey unscathed.

With our path clear and our spirits lifted, the rest of our party joined us, stepping out onto Route 20 and taking the first steps toward our new destiny. For many of them, this was the first time they’d been outside of our walls in more than three months.

Brian and Lara got the men and women spread out into teams with help from Justin and Chandra. Each team took up their position in our column, and as Brian got them moving, I looked at the thirteen friends I was leaving behind. When the distance we traveled grew greater and I could no longer make out their faces, I was suddenly overcome with a feeling that I’d never see them again. I wondered if I’d ever step foot into Randall Oaks again.

The snow started to fall shortly after we got underway. The temperature had dropped several degrees, as well, and was quite noticeable, although no one complained. In fact, everyone had been quiet for most of our journey. Perhaps, like myself, they also felt that sickening feeling that they’d never see their friends again.

I was satisfied with their silence; noise discipline was extremely important on the road, as the crazies were attracted to sound. Although we had made quick work of their kind just hours ago, I wanted to avoid an altercation at all costs. The best way to survive among the undead was to avoid them.

By my estimate, we’d traveled about a mile and a half, in just over an hour and a half. I was surprised at how quickly the light seemed to be fading and I already regretted the time wasted this morning before getting on the road.

Brian’s group was out front, followed by Chandra, then Lara and Justin. My group brought up the rear of our column. From my position at the tail, I had a clear view of all of our members. In front of me, Wesley pulled the red wagon with Ray’s radio equipment. Al Sanchez was currently taking a spell pushing Ray’s chair. Although Ray had insisted he would move under his own power, I insisted that the members of our group would take turns pushing his chair to ensure we all stayed together and no one lagged behind. Surprisingly, he resigned his argument quickly. I couldn’t be sure if it was the resoluteness in my order or fear of being left behind that drove Ray to relent. It didn’t matter to me either way as long as we continued to move at our brisk pace.

The remaining members of my group, Al’s wife Araceli and his eldest daughter Belinda, walked at either flank of the wheel chair. Cody trotted alongside the wheelchair, his leash tied securely to one of the arms. The dog’s breath fogged out into the cold air with every pant. His head was constantly moving from side to side, his nose pointed slightly toward the sky, as he searched for new and interesting scents.

As we neared the three mile mark an hour later, I began to become aware of the cold. The temperature had dropped several more degrees in a short period of time. A wind had come up from the east; it was against our backs, but it chilled the air even more. Through my thick coat, the coldness still found my flesh. My feet were beginning to stiffen and my toes hurt when I tried to curl them within my boots.

Snow continued to fall and the thick flakes were now beginning to stick to the blacktop. Both Ray’s chair and Wesley’s wagon now left thin tracks in the snow, as did all of our shoes and boots. If anyone besides the undead were following us, we were leaving a very distinctive and easy trail.

Araceli had now taken over pushing Ray and Brenda had spelled Wesley with the wagon. The little Red Ryder had come in handy; with the exception of Al and myself, the wagon now carried the rest of the group’s heavy back packs.

We’d lost a little ground and put distance between us and the rest of our group when Cody suddenly stopped. At first I thought he heard something, and I gripped my splitting maul tighter within my gloved hands. Ahead of us, Justin paused, waiting to see if we needed assistance. When Cody started to piss in the snow, I gave Justin the hand signal to keep moving forward.

After reliving his bladder, the dog started to whine and turn in circles. Ray had to keep lifting the leash so the dog wouldn’t get tangled in it. Finally, as if he realized he wasn’t going to be let off his leash, he squatted beside the wheelchair and moved his bowels.

“Jesus Christ, Cody,” Ray said, recoiling from the pungent aroma. “A little warning before you drop load.”

Wesley laughed, amused by Ray’s comments and soon we all found ourselves laughing when Al asked, “You gonna pick that up, Ray?”

“Fuck off,” Ray said. He gripped the wheels of his chair and started to pull himself forward. Cody trotted, keeping pace with his master.

I gave the signal for everyone to get moving again. Albert took up a post behind Ray’s chair. After scanning the surrounding area to make sure we weren’t being pursued by the flesh-craving creatures, I hitched the SKS to a more comfortable position on my shoulder and started walking.

“Let’s pick up the pace, folks,” I said. “We have some extra ground to cover, thanks to Cody.”

The dog turned to me when he heard his name and then looked ahead again. The flurries caused by the wind pushed flakes into my face and neck. Again, I became aware of the cold. I was sure everyone else was feeling much the same. We’d need to make it to shelter soon, before nightfall.

Another half hour passed before we caught up with the other four teams. As we drew near, I realized Justin’s team was at a standstill. Lara’s group stood with them, on the left flank. Before I could scold them for breaking formation, Brian emerged from between the men and women.

Chandra and I were the last to join the leaders as we huddled around Brian. He nodded at me and then addressed the group.

“We reached our first objective.” He pointed off to the north, indicating the gray structure about a quarter mile in the distance. In the falling snow it was difficult to make out any distinctive details.

After consulting his watch, he continued, “We made really good time. I expected it would take us another hour to get this far.”

“Do we keep going to the next objective then?” Justin asked.

Brian looked at me for a second. I shook my head and said, “The weather’s getting worse and the temperature is dropping. Even though we made good time, there’s no way we’d reach the next shelter before nightfall.”

“Matt’s right; we stay here as planned. We’ll have a little extra relaxation tonight. How’s that sound ladies and gentlemen?” We all agreed that was an excellent idea.

Brian said, “Last time I was here, three crazies chased me to this place. They may have moved on since then, but maybe not. Keep your eyes open and stay sharp. I’m not about to lose someone because we got too relaxed.”

* * *

The Kountry Kennels Pet Resort & Training compound was stunning, the landscaping was breathtaking, even during the winter months when snow dulled the colorful shrubs and trees that surrounded the main building. Large boulders and stones dotted the landscape, lending a rustic look and feel. To the left of the main entrance stood a hay wagon, its lumber painted Confederate gray. The deep red of the large spindled wheels stood out in bold contrast. The structure itself was sided in the same gray as the wagon. The eaves, gutters, and frames were all painted a deeper, darker shade of gray. The roofing shingles were a mix of light and dark shades of gray. The building’s center was circular, with a lookout post extending from the main roof, and two rectangular wings stretching out on either side. Although the multitude of windows with their painted mullions and muntins were beautiful, I felt that too many windows posed a security issue.