Slow Burn: A Zombie Novel (23 page)

It was just after 0800hrs, and Dan was watching the neighbors across the street loading up their Dodge Caravan in a panic. The wife had been throwing unpacked items, mostly food and clothing, into the back while her husband wasted precious time strapping a mattress and box spring to the roof. Two little girls were sitting on the front steps crying with pink backpacks on. Dan guessed they were maybe six and eight years old. He shook his head in wonder at how a father could be so unprepared for a family emergency. It didn’t take a genius to see there was no plan as to what was being loaded or probably where they were heading to as well. The man shrieked several choice obscenities at his wife as she spilled a case of bottled water all over the driveway, and you could hear the panic in his voice from across the street. Dan was positive they wouldn’t make it too far. Dan had called out an offer of assistance which was met with a terrified order to stay the hell away from him and his family.

This was the third family he saw leave in the last hour, and they all left under similar circumstances. It took the panicked family fifteen to twenty more minutes for them to finally get out of the driveway. The van looked overloaded and rode low to the ground. Dan had not seen a zombie all night, and the only real action had been the many vehicles speeding out of the subdivision. Mattie and Chris fell asleep watching TV in the living room, but the sound was turned too low for him to make out what was being said. He was sure as shit that it was not good news. However, the sun was bright and the air was clear, making it an otherwise perfect late summer morning. Walking downstairs, Dan let Mattie continue to sleep, as she was probably up late, but Chris received the toe of his boot to wake up and relieve him from guard duty.

“
Be upstairs in fifteen!” Dan said. “I’m spent.”

“
Roger that,” Chris replied with a yawn.

Stephen, now awake and refreshed after a solid eight hours of sleep, exited his bedroom fully dressed just as Dan, back at his lookout post, spotted his next door neighbor speed walking to the front door.

"Looks like you got company coming," Dan called as the front doorbell rang several times." I would’ve shot him, but I don't think he’s sick. Looks way too scared to be a zombie."

Stephen peered out the upstairs window at the man who he could tell was quite agitated.

"That's Paul Tucker, my liberal neighbor, who hates guns and is probably scared shitless right about now," Stephen laughed. "I can only imagine what he wants. Guess he didn't feel like going into the office today."

“
Guess not,” Dan replied. “And he doesn’t look armed.”

Deciding to take the opportunity to rub the present situation in Paul's face, Stephen bounded down the stairs, his knee feeling much better, and opened the front door, being sure to leave the glass storm door locked.

"What's up, Paul?" Stephen said with as little emotion as possible. "Watching any TV? Bet you wished you owned a gun right now. Things are looking mighty bad out there. I saw it firsthand yesterday."

"M-my wife and daughter are really scared, Stephen, they are both at h-home in tears right now," Paul stammered, barely able to keep from crying himself. "Can't we set politics aside for now? We could really use some help. I don't know what to do. Our car is nearly out of gas, and Vanessa is close to having a breakdown worrying about her family up in the city. I feel helpless to protect her and Britney. The phones aren't working, so we can't call for help. You’re a cop, what should we do?"

As much as Stephen wanted to tell his liberal neighbor, "Too bad, go pound sand!" Stephen had a soft spot for Paul's daughter Britney. She had even agreed to check on Buddy when he was out of town this past weekend. Britney was a sweetheart and very smart for her age. He’d bought lemonade from her stand just last week and knew he couldn't just turn his back on them.

"Try and relax, Paul," Stephen replied. “I have plenty of help here and we’ll keep your house covered for the time being. You have enough food and water over there?"

"We have enough food for a few weeks or more," Paul replied. "I saw to that early yesterday afternoon when the news reports started coming in. It was a madhouse at the grocery store and I heard shooting as I left. We don’t have much for water though."

"Hang on a second," Stephen said. He left the door, returning a few moments later with a 100 gallon water bob for a tub and a small water filter in a box. "Fill this just in case, and filter it first. I’m not entirely sure how this is spreading yet. That should keep you busy for a while. This afternoon you can have Vanessa and Britney come over for lunch, and my friend Mattie can help calm them down. I'll get a hold of you later."

Stephen closed the door, leaving Paul standing on the porch holding the cardboard box, still looking quite his pathetic liberal self.

Stephen turned from the closed outside door, walked down into his basement, and clicked on the lights. Mike was still snoring and sound asleep over in the corner on the cot. He knew from experience that when Mike fell asleep, it was like trying to raise the dead to wake him up. He crossed over to his row of plastic shelving that ran around the back side of his unfinished basement. Most would say that he was a bit of a survivalist or "prepper" as the trendy people now called it. The shelves lining his walls in rows were filled with everything necessary to live on your own for an extended period of time. He currently had enough bulk food and canned goods to last two people at least twenty or so months. He had also gone to great care to have a wide variety of food and drink options. Cans of various fruits and vegetables filled several shelves, along with two hundred cans of Campbell’s Chunky soups, which Stephen loved to take to work for a quick, easy dinner. Canned tuna, hams and canned chicken filled another. Cases of bottled water filled several shelves and were frequently rotated. Water filters supplemented this, along with several empty drinking water jugs that could be filled on a moment’s notice. He decided that he needed to filter some water today and get the jugs filled.

He next shuffled past his pallet of food grade buckets containing two hundred pounds of rice sealed in Mylar bags with oxygen absorbers. Several other buckets contained pinto beans, oats, pasta, flour, and cereals. Five 40lb bags of dog food rested on the last shelf in the row. Just inside of that was a shelf containing 150 Military MREs and various Mountain House freeze dried hiking meals. The shelves on the other wall contained hunting and camping gear along with several pre-packed bug out bags. Medical and hygiene supplies filled one shelf each. In the far back end of the basement Stephen kept his reloading equipment, HAM radio, and gun safes. An Eaton UPS battery bank kept the HAMs going in the event of a power outage. He checked the power status of the batteries, wondering how long the grid power would stay up with nobody to keep it running.

Not more than a few days, he decided.

Walking over to his safe, he dialed in the combination to the large Sentry 24-gun unit. A string of mass shootings over the last couple of years had led to restrictive gun laws in an ever increasing number of states. Stephen was never gladder to have rounded out his collection before it became socially taboo, and downright expensive. He removed his primary AR-15, a Bushmaster 16” carbine with an Aimpoint M2 and Surefire light. Mike always got a glazed look in his eyes whenever he spouted all the technical gun jargon associated with his hobby of collecting firearms. Chuckling to himself, he also eyed his other two AR-15 rifles, a Stag Arms carbine with an EoTech 512 holographic sight, and a DPMS 20” rifle with an ACOG scope. Leaving the other two in the safe for the time being, he checked to make sure the Bushmaster was loaded and attached the one-point sling that hung from the safe door. Stephen also removed his Polish AK47 Under folder from the safe and seated a 30-round magazine. His scoped Springfield M1A he left in the safe for the time being.

Having finished with the battle rifles, he next eyed his handguns. Being a big fan of 1911s he grabbed his Springfield Loaded from the top shelf in the safe. He had dropped an extra fifteen hundred dollars into the gun at the custom shop and it was set up just the way he liked it. He set the 1911 aside for now however, knowing that since headshots were necessary, the big .45 with its 8-round magazines might not be as effective as his 9mm with its high capacity magazines. He then removed from the safe his Beretta M9 pistol, a favorite of his at the range. He was much more accurate with it than with his police issued Glock and had over 3000 9mm rounds for it, stacked in three ammo cans. Old enough to vividly remember the now expired assault weapon ban, Stephen kept plenty of high capacity magazines on hand for all his firearms, having a dozen 15-rounder's for the Beretta alone. Two Sig's, a 229 9mm and 220C .45 complete his semi-auto pistol collection. He also had several hunting rifles and shotguns in the safe, along with a few revolvers. A Mossberg 590 police shotgun was currently next to his bed upstairs, where it stood guard 24/7.

Also inside the safe were the keys to two cheaper green Stack-on gun safes which held all of Stephen’s ammunition, magazines and spare parts. He had several thousand rounds of rifle, pistol and shotgun ammunition on hand. Prior to today, Stephen felt pretty confident in his ammunition supply. But now, after seeing the enormity of this epidemic, it felt inadequate for the challenge. He wondered if they should try and acquire more here, and was willing to bet everyone else was probably thinking the same thing.

He was betting on some panic shopping today. At least he was better prepared than most.

He was pondering this when the smell of bacon and eggs reached him from the kitchen.

It smelled like Mattie was cooking up some breakfast. He bounded up the stairs with his primary rifle, his stomach already growling.

Sure enough, she had heaps of hot food on the table along with orange juice and toast. Chris had piled up a plate and was headed upstairs to relieve Dan of guard duty. Stephen loaded a plate and asked Mattie to fill him in on the news. It was more bad news as attacks had been reported in all of the lower 48 as well as Canada and Mexico.

“
The press conference at the CDC had little to offer,” Mattie told him. “They are analyzing the virus to find its origin, but they have no cure, immunization, or even answers of any kind at this point.”

“
What about the military?”

“
Still trying to seal off the large cities to contain the outbreak,” Mattie replied. “Every time they try to cordon off an area they seem to get overrun, though. The talk now seems to be what areas they can hold on to, not whether or not they can contain the virus.”

“
That’s not good,” Stephen replied, digging into his food. “But I saw it coming after yesterday.”

* * * * * * * *

I slowly dragged my tired ass awake to the smell of bacon, which instantly grabbed my attention. Someone must be doing some cooking there, and after walking up the stairs I was happy to see that Mattie had put together a small feast, and managed to do it while also looking like a million bucks. She normally had to wear her hair up for work but now had it down and her thick silky black hair nearly reached her waist.

"Food looks fantastic, Mattie, as do you," I cheerfully said, grabbing a plate.

"Why thank you, Mike!" she replied. "Dig in; you’re the only one left that has to eat. And there is plenty left.”

"Where’s everyone else?” I asked after realizing that there was nobody else in the kitchen with her and the family room was empty as well.

"Chris is upstairs on lookout, and I think Dan went to sleep upstairs after he ate,” Mattie replied. “I know I heard him out in the garage earlier with Stephen. I think they were playing with a generator and fired it up for a minute. Stephen said that he wanted to go check on Jamere and Robert and see if they were okay and set up some kind of meeting for this afternoon. I wanted someone to go with him, but he said he’d be fine, and it would just take a minute.”

Jamere Banks and Robert Ackerman were both fellow Joliet officers that lived within six houses of Stephen. Jamere was single and lived to the north; Robert had a wife and small children and lived just to the west. As far as I could remember, both Jamere and Rob were not at work yesterday and may be safe and sound at home. I thought about the upcoming meeting and what plans needed to be arranged as I ate my breakfast.

Mattie updated me on the news reports coming in on the TV this morning. More of the same, with large scale rioting and looting in all major cities, and the authorities were powerless to stop it. Overnight it became clear to the entire nation that we were dealing with a virus that, for lack of a better term, was turning people into zombies. People seemed to be disregarding the suggestion to remain at home, and the residents of the inner cities were pouring out into the close suburbs, overwhelming what roadblocks existed and carrying the disease with them. A few “experts” had come on from the CDC in Atlanta, as well as a few major universities, but they basically knew nothing about what it was, where it came from, or how to stop it. It did appear, though, that it was not spread through the air or water, but through bodily fluid. They also confirmed that the president and vice president were both indeed dead, and that the speaker of the House was now the president.

“
Well, it looks like everything is falling apart, so we should have a lot to work out at this meeting,” I finally sighed. “I think I’m going to work off some of this stress in Stephen’s basement until then. Care to join me?”