Slow Burn: A Zombie Novel (33 page)

We arrived at the safe zone a few minutes later, and as the large school came into view we were greeted by a flurry of activity not seen since the crisis first began.

It was filled with living, breathing people!

It could almost give a person a sense of hope after all we had been through. Almost, for also present was a mob of howling and moaning infected creatures, only kept at bay by a hastily prepared barrier of vehicles.

“
Our new home,” I relayed into the radio. “Let’s hope this works out.”

The high school campus was like most every other newer high school in the country, complete with a large football field with bleacher seating, baseball diamonds, tennis courts, and a way overpriced architect’s fantasy of a school building. All compliments of the taxpayers. However, I didn’t think they ever imagined the armed guards with rifles that were patrolling on the roof. I guess none of that mattered anymore under the current conditions. The perimeter of the large parking lot had a fence of a sort. Someone had taken surrounding stalled cars, lined the edge of the property and stacked those two and in some places three vehicles on top one another.

“
They must have used a large front end loader or forklift of some sort,” Stephen remarked as we drove up. “The City of Joliet owns quite a few front end loaders and I believe I can hear one now running somewhere.”

Several dozen people could also be seen walking around on the other side of the barrier, all looking like they had somewhere important that they needed to be five minutes ago.

Slowing down at the “gate”, our convoy pulled to a stop. The gate basically consisted of a small bus that they would jockey back and forth across an opening in the perimeter. I guess it worked, but I would want a better, more permanent gate for the long term. The size of our caravan – our three vehicles following in behind the other two arriving cars – had gathered a bit of a crowd, which was forming on the other side of the vehicle wall. Several people with firearms stopped at the gate, and a thin white man hopped over the wall holding a pump shotgun and approached the lead car in front of me. After a short conversation that I couldn’t make out, he cautiously walked up to the ambulance as if I was a new type of zombie that could drive.

I rolled the window down and told him we were here to enter the safe zone we kept hearing about.

“
You folks have anyone injured? Anyone that’s been bitten?” he asked.

“
Negative,” I shot back. “We’re all healthy, and there’s five total in my group.”

After a bit more questioning, he ordered me to drive inside once the gate opened and stop near the tennis courts for a medical inspection as a safety precaution.

I told him I understood their concerns, and as he waved me through, I radioed back to the group what we were to do once inside.

They directed us to a vehicle parking area, and once we got out we were led to the fenced in tennis court that they set up as an intake area for new arrivals. It was separated from the rest of the facility by chain link fence, where a medical technician took our temperature and a few other tests. The other two arriving cars had a total of seven people, and they were to get checked out first. While waiting my turn, I talked to their group leader, a guy named Brett. He told me how his group was staying at the casino in town when the infections started. They holed up there for a while but food soon ran short, and most of the staff had bolted for home to check on their families. Without many weapons it was just a matter of time before something gave, and Brett said that when that happened it got ugly quickly. He got quiet, and I could see that he was reliving what happened over and over again in his head. Eventually I changed the subject, and soon it was his turn to get medically checked out. After they cleared him they got to us and they passed me, Chris and Dan with flying colors.

While we were waiting for Stephen and Mattie to get cleared, the three of us started checking out our surroundings and a few things immediately stood out. I spotted the WCCQ 98.3 broadcast van parked near a large antenna. Several squad cars were parked in the lot, and also the police department’s mobile command center. The fire department even had a few engines on scene, as well as a couple ambulances.

“
Well that’s a good sign,” Dan said, looking at the equipment. “Maybe more of your city services made it through than we originally thought.”

“
I hope they don’t want their ambulance back,” I responded, “because they’re not getting it.”

I was also very happy to spot several of the portable light towers belonging to the city. They were vital to the survival of this place. With the power being out, it got quite dark without street lights. I would hate to have to fight zombies in the dark. Chris was standing next to us and saw something that made him stop in his tracks.

“
I’ll be right back guys,” he said, walking towards a fire truck.

As Chris neared the truck, he could see that the front passenger side of the fire engine was all dented and scratched with white paint transfer on it. Looking around, he located a group of firemen nearby.

“
Hey guys, whose engine is this?” he asked, pointing with his thumb.

One of the guys replied, “It is mine. Why do you ask?”

“
This hunk of metal almost ran my ass over on Gardner Street last week!” Chris bellowed. “And it destroyed my squad when it fled from that accident scene,
and
I had to fight my way out of that death trap on foot!”

“
Oh man, I am so sorry.” The man’s face turned white. “Things went to shit so fast, we got scared and took off. We didn’t even see you.”

Chris wanted to hit someone, but after the man’s heartfelt apology, he couldn’t muster the energy to be angry.

“
Don’t sweat it, bro, it turned out alright. No hard feelings I guess,” Chris said, surprising even himself.

After shaking hands with the man and his friends, Chris walked back over to where I was standing and again told me the story of nearly being run over. Finally Stephen and Mattie were cleared, and we all made our way back towards our vehicles.

While walking back, I heard someone calling my name. I scanned the crowd and soon spotted the familiar face of Robert Anderson, who jogged over to say hello. He filled us in on how they had no problem making it to the safe zone in his Tahoe and only had to run over a few zombies along the way. The safe zone was now using his truck, however. Due to his police experience he had immediately been assigned to the perimeter and had pulled a shift just last night.

“
I’d like to start going out on scavenging runs,” Robert said. “I’ve already volunteered for it, but so far nothing has gotten organized.”

“
That’ll have to change,” Stephen remarked. “There’s a ton of shit out there ripe for the picking right now.”

“
That would be great and count me in,” Robert replied. “Unfortunately this place has people playing politics already, and it’s hard to get anyone on board.”

Robert told us how Holly had made herself busy immediately as well, setting up a counseling center in an old classroom, helping people who were having a hard time dealing with losing family and friends. Even Vanessa realized that she was not the only one who had suffered and was starting to snap out of it. He did admit that the living arrangements sucked. He was stuck in a gymnasium that was full of cots, along with several hundred other people, similar to what was seen on television after Hurricane Katrina in 2005 and on a smaller scale in New Jersey after Hurricane Sandy in 2012. It seemed if you were a buddy of the councilman, however, you got to use an old classroom as private living quarters. The food was not bad though, considering the circumstances. There were a lot of foodstuffs in the cafeteria and the school’s back-up generator provided power for cooking and bathing in the locker room showers. He ended the conversation as we reached our vehicles by saying he needed to go check on his wife and kids, who were helping organize activities for the children languishing on the school campus.

Soon after Robert left, what looked like a paper pusher type carrying a clipboard and a sloppy looking guard who had a pump shotgun walked up to where I stood. The little man with the clipboard immediately attempted to give me orders.

“
Okay, you’re the new arrivals I’ve heard about, correct?” he said and did not even wait for a reply. “What we need you to do is unload all of your food and water supplies over near the large tent to the south. All gear and related things will be stacked in an orderly fashion near the semi-trailer next to it. Next, the vehicles you have brought into the safe zone will be confiscated for official security and safe zone use. Last but not least, all personal and whatever additional firearms, ammo, and weapons this group has will be turned over immediately to safe zone security personnel. And furthermore, you’ll be interviewed to see what skills you have to pull your weight around here.”

I just stared at this idiot like he just called me an asshole.

Several moments ticked by silently and the man looked up at me clearly uncomfortable.

“
Sir, uh…I said...,” he stuttered.

“
I heard what you said. Let me give you a bit of advice,” I interrupted. “Never order a man to turn over his guns unless you are prepared to take them by force.”

Mr. Clipboard seemed unsure of himself. He probably never had anyone tell him no before.

“
But my orders…you have to...,” he began.

“
You and your orders can go fuck off,” I told him. “We’re keeping our shit for now, all of it.”

“
You better do as ordered or we will detain you,” the out of shape guard replied stepping forward, but unsure of what he was actually going to do next.

Now I had to laugh. This dork, who looked like he just started this line of work today, was threatening me in a safe zone?

“
Why don’t you go with clipboard man here and have a three-way with his orders?” I growled. “Everyone in my group is a cop, and no one is detaining anybody.”

I heard my teammates step up behind me, most likely investigating the raised voices of my verbal altercation.

Stephen slid up next to me. “What’s the problem, Mike?”

“
This jerkoff is telling me we got to turn over our supplies, gear, vehicles and all of our guns to divvy up to the rest of the guards ,” I replied, knowing it would set Stephen off.

“
WHAT!?!” Stephen screeched. “You folks are out of your fucking minds if you think we will do that! You do know what’s right outside these walls, right?”

More guards showed up as the argument looked like it could turn physical. Just then a voice cut through the shouting and quieted us down.

“
What seems to be the cause for this ruckus?”

I turned and looked at a familiar looking white man wearing a freaking suit of all things.

The guards snapped to attention and saluted the suit.

“
Sir, these men are refusing to follow orders and turn over items per safe zone directives,” the original guard said.

The little man in the suit looked over at me and then scanned the rest of my friends.

“
Is this true?”

“
Hell yeah, it’s true!” I was growing more pissed by the second. “Your radio broadcasts said nothing about turning over all our shit once inside your safe zone!”

“
Well son, these are desperate times which call for desperate measures,” the man said. “So if it seems I trample on some constitutional rights in order to save my city, so be it. We have over seven hundred people staying here as of right now. It’s important for the common good of my citizens here that those who can afford to give do so.”

I glanced around at the other occupants of the safe zone. There appeared to be several hundred people in a large army tent encampment on a baseball field. Looking closely, I saw a huge majority of them doing nothing but sitting on their asses. A few women appeared to be cleaning the row of port-a-potties that were lined up behind a dugout. There seemed to be a minimal number of civilians pulling guard duty or doing any kind of manual labor for that matter.

“
Yeah, I see how well your redistribution of our supplies and firearms would benefit your people here by letting them get fatter off our food,” I finally replied. “If you folks need more stuff, I suggest you put together supply raids to go out and scavenge up more of what you need. There’s plenty out there.”

“
I’ll even help you find more firearms,” Stephen said, “but you sure as hell aren’t taking mine away.”

“
Hey, aren’t you Councilman Lewis?” Chris asked, changing the subject.

The man wearing the suit straightened up and brushed off his sleeves. “Why yes I am. I’m also Director of the Western Will County Safe Zone authorized by the Department of Homeland Security.”

“
I thought so,” Chris replied, turning to us. “This is the tool who always voted against our police contracts and budgets.”